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B 427684 


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VOL. I. 


SovirxT to the Bishop of WincheitBr. •.*•. .•• ▼ 

Adtirtissmxitt yi 

XjIfx or MiLTOR six 

Addxhd A erili 

Appkivdix : 

1. Agreement for the pablioatioii of Panuliie Lost cxii 

3. Alterations made in the second edition of Paradise Lost. • . . cziT 

3. Five Letters to Milton from Tarioos friends, now first 

printed czr 

4. Extracts of letters relating to Milton, from Barman's Sjl- 

loge Epistolanim cxx 

5. Violation of Milton's Tomb • cxxir 

Complimentaiy Veraes of Barrow and ManreH cxzrii 

Paradisx Lost: 

Book 1 1 

Book II 36 

Book III 79 

Book IV 109 

Book V 152 

Book VI 189 

Book VII 224 

Book VllI 251 

Book IX 277 

Book X 326 


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As one whose footsteps by some ancient stream, 
Tiber, or old Ilissus, chance upturn, 
Of time forgotten, sculptured trunk or urn, 
Work of the Phidian chisel, as may -seem 
Inimitable ; straight as from a dream 
Waketh, nor hasteneth onward, till he learn. 
Wondering, each grace, each beauty : — so did burn 
My heart, when first by thee disclosed, the gleam 
It caught of Milton's page, by envious crime 
Forgotten or deform'd. Oh 1 well hast thou 
And fitliest, paid the debt, though late, that prime 
And holy song^ requiting, by old time 
Remember'd, which twin-lustre sheds e'en now 
On thee and elder Winton's mitred brow. 

J* M« 
BenhaU, Jiav, 1831. 

1 See MUtoni Eleg. in Obitum Prat. Wlntonieiwii. 


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On being requested to compose a brief Memoir of the Life 
of Milton, adapted to the edition to which it was to be attached, 
I naturally searched for information among the former biogra- 
phers of the Poet 

Though the present Life is too contracted in its plan, and, 
perhaps, too slender in its materials, to pretend to rank among 
the laboured and established biographies of Milton, yet I must 
observe that in the arrangement of the subject, in the opinions 
delivered, or the inferences drawn, it is dependent on none that 
has preceded it I have consulted all the former writers for 
information, without copying them ; and I have attended re- 
spectfully to their reasoning, without servilely adhering to it. 
After being indebted to them for the necessary facts, and for 
occasional expressions, the remainder of the narrative has been 
the result of my own inquiries, and formed from the conclusions 
of my own judgment To the poetry of Milton from my earliest 
youth down to the commencing autumn of my life, I have ever 
looked with a reverence and love not easily to be surpassed ,* for 
the sentiments adopted and avowed by him on the great and 
complicated questions of civil liberty and political rights, I have, 
as becomes my situation, and is suitable to the habits of my 
mind, expressed myself with that temperance of opinion and 


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moderation of language, which can alone expect to conciliate 
attention, or to command req>ect 

The account of Milton bj his nephew Edward Philips,^ 
though less copious and instructive than might be expected, is 
interesting and valuable. It supplies us with many facts re- 
specting the Poet's manner of life, his circumstances, and opin- 
ions. It was written by a person who had been educated in his 
youth by Milton, who had subsequently lived in habits of daily 
intimacy with him, and to whom Milton had mentioned many 
facts relating to himself. 

The biography by Toland' was composed not many years 
after the death of the Poet; and he enriched his materials with 
communications from members of Milton's family. The book 
is written in a grave and manly style, with high admiration of 
its subject ; and it abounds with judicious reflections on the 
events of the time. This work, together with those of Philips 
and of Wood, has formed the basis of all the subsequent biog- 

Next, I believe, in order of time, appeared the life written 
by the elder Richardson, the painter. He was an ingenious, in» 
quisitive, and amiable man, but a singularly quaint and man- 

1 E. PbJIlpa mentfamad MUtoii*! nanM in his Tliaatnim Poetanim, 167S. An. Wood, 
In 1691, gBTO an seeonnt of Milton In his FUt. Oxon. for A. D. 1635, put. L foi. 480, 
ed. BliM. Langboine alio gaTe iome mention of blm in 1601. The Lift of Hilton in 
the Biographia Britannlca, (A. D. 1760,) waa by Dr. NiehoUa. 

s * I heard aome partieolan,' aaya Toland, * from a peraon that had been once hla 
amannensia, whleh were confirmed to me by hia daughter, now dwelling In London, 
and by a letter written to me at my deaire by hia laat wift, who la atlll alive. I peruaed 
the papeza of one of hla nephewa, learned what I could in dlaconiaa with the other, and 
laatly conanlted aoch of hla acquaintance aa, after the beat inquiry, I waa able to die- 
cover.' lifk, p. 9. Toland*a Life waa publlahed in 1698 with MUton'a praae worka } 
■qiaiatdy fai 1600; and by Ifr. T. HoUia in 1701. 


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nered writer. To him we are indebted for some farther par- 
ticulars of the Poet's life, for the most part gathered from the 
communications of Pope, or from the descendants of Milton's 

Doctor Birch, who was remarkable for his industrious and 
indefatigable researches, added considerably to the amount of 
our information ; and he first gratified the' curiosity of the 
learned by an account of the manuscripts of Milton existing at 
Cambridge,^ and by transcripts of the variations which they 
exhibited from the established text. 

Johnson's biographical memoir, and the criticism attached 
to it, have excited so much discussion, and have been met by 
such variety of judgments, that I shall content myself with 
observing, that the character and the opinion of the Poet and 
the Biographer were, in many important points, extremely dis- 
similar ; that a violent tory and high churchman undertook 
to write the life of a republican and a puritan ; that a man, 
remarkable for his practical wisdom, his strong sense, and his 
rational philosophy, delivered his judgments on the writings of 
one, distinguished for his high imagination, his poetical feel- 
ing, his speculative politics, and his visionary theology. John- 
son came, it must be owned, with strong prejudice and much 
dislike to his subject ,* and nothing perhaps saved Milton from 
deeper censure^ but his biographer's conviction of his sincerity, 

S The Twtationi in the Cambridge HS9. were imperfectly and Incorrectly printed by 
Dr. Birch, and were given by T. Warton trom a more minute and careAiI examination 
of the manoflcript. See his edition of Hilton*8 Poems (3nd od.), p. 578. A very few 
have escaped even hbn. Peck's new Life of Milton was published in 1740 : an abstract 
of its contents will be seen in a note in this Life, p. xxx. 

4 Cowper, in his Letters (second series, vol. i. p. 316—319), says, * His criticisms on 
Milton and Prior are the two capital instances In which he has offended me.'— I have 


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his admiratioii of his learning, and his reverence for his piety. 
Had Johnson lived in the Poet's days, he would have stood by 
the side of Salmasius in the field of controversy, and opposed 
Milton on every question connected with the interests of society, 
the existence of the monarchy, and the preservation of the 
church. Johnson would have acknowledged no government 
that was not dependent on the throne, and he would havo rev- 
erenced no ecclesiastical institution that was not united to a 
hierarchy. It would be curious to guess what his expression 
would have been, had he lived to read the defence of Polygamy, 
the denial of the eternal generation of the Son, the inferiority 
of the Holy Spirit, and the open avowal of Arianisra. Bolt 
Court would have grown darker at his frown, as he directed 
the thunder of his wrath against an impracticable philosophy he 
would have despised, and an erratic theology he would have 

To disarm the severity of this criticism, and to represent in 
fairer lights and with softer colours those circumstances which 
had excited the indignation of the critic, seems to have been 
the chief purpose^ for which Mr. Hayley's Life was written. I 
cannot say much that is favourable to its execution ; but we 
are indebted to him for first calling the attention of the learned 
to that singular Italian drama,^ the Adamo of Andreini, and 

teen the copy of Johnson*! Life of BCUton which Cowper used, and have read hie 
marginal obaervationa, in which he has strongly expressed bis opinipn of the incorrect* 
neas of Johnson's reasoning, and the injustice of his criticism. If I rightly recollect, 
be left off, disgusted with the work, before he had read tbe half of it. 

s Bayley is called by Mr. Todd, tbe affwtionau biographer; bat temperance and im- 
partiality are the qoalitieB required when the subject of the biography has become a 
matter of taislory. 

• I much qoestion whether Milton ever read the nnmerons obscure Italian poems, 
VOL. I. B 


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Other productions of the same class, which are the supposed 
prototypes of Milton's poem. 

Mr. Todd's exemplary diligence, his various information, and 
his extensive acquaintance with rare and curious books, has 
enabled him to throw light on some particulars of Milton's his- 
tory {hat were previously obscure : the second edition of his 
work" is also enriched with valuable documents lately brought 
to light. His narrative is for the most part copied from that 
of Dr. Johnson; and when he ventures to stray from his 
illustrious model, and alter his language, it is seldom with ad- 

The latest biography which I have perused is that written 
by Dr. Symmons. This biographer was a violent whig, a 
most warm and zealous partizan, and, I must add, an intem- 
perate and incautious writer. The language which he uses 
towards those opposed to him in opinion, as to Johnson, and T. 
Warton, is far too violent and vituperative ; and Hayley's name 
is seldom mentioned but to be coupled with contempt. His 
work is too much expanded with conjectures that cannot satisfy 
the mind, nor lead to the discovery of truth ; and it has added 
but little to our knowledge of facts. Yet his metrical criticisms 
on the Latin poems of Milton, though they have not quite ex- 
hausted the subject, are more accurate and learned than ever 

whoie names Mr. Hayley, Dr. J. Warton, and others aubseqaenUy have mentioned, 
but many of which they themaelvee have never seen. Whether, as Hayley suppoees, 
Milton was fhmiliar with the Angeleida of Erasmo de Valvasone, Venet. U90, or not, 
it certalniy is worthy of remark, that the Italian poet assigns to tk» bifbmal powen tks 
imeiUUm qf artillery ; but on this subject consult a note by Todd in vol. ii. 465, on the 
Adamo. See Walker, on Italian Trafsdy, p. ITS, App. xzziL on passages In the Parai^ise 
Lost, taken from the Setti giomi of Tasso. See Biack*s Life of Tasso, vol. 11. p. 460. 


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before appeared: and some translations are given which are 
spirited and elegant. 

The notes which Bentley^ published on Paradise Lost appear 
to have been selected from that copy of Tonson's Milton, once 
belonging to him, which I now possess ; and much as his vio- 
lence and rashness of conjecture has been blamed, the public 
has yet to learn, that his alterations, numerous as they were, 
form only a selection from a much larger mass that still remains 
upon the margin of the edition which he used. But if the wild 
attempt to unite his own lifeless and prosaic passages with the 
living spirit of Milton's poetry, were an act of presumption in 
the aged critic ; yet, I must confess, there is something less of 
arrogance in the manner in which they are proposed, than might 
have been expected, when the boldness of his system was so 
openly avowed. He had the humanity to leave the established 
text untouched : and to confine the troubled spirit of his emen- 
dations within the lower circle of his notes. ' His changes (he 
says) are only suggested to the reader, and not obtruded on 
him ; and if any person will substitute better, he will deserve 
every reader's thanks ; though it is to be hoped even these will 
not be found absurd, or disagreeing from the Miltonian char- 

* Bant et mlhl Cajwina, ma qaoque dicimt 
Yatem pastaraa, aed non ego eredulua Alia.' 

The few notes which are now for the first time published, 
are partly designed to prove, that Bentley did not generally at- 

7 Dr. Newtoii*a obaarratioBa on BenOejr'a IQlton are temperate and Judieiooa. flee 
hia Pref. p. 38. It appeen that Dr. H^yUn ^?e the notea wUch be had made on HUton, 
with the intentlan oTpvihUahhigaB edition, to Benttey, «»• tot / i fai a d rtm n Mr mm, 


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tempt to substitute the actual and genuine words of Milton in 
the place of the ^fictitious and adulterated text (?. Book viii. 
653) ; but only to restore what he conceived to be the sense and 
meaning of the passage. The conjectures which, in his own 
printed edition, I find waiting in the margin, and eager for ad- 
mittance into the verse, in his MS. copy are attended with a 
numerous train, as little plausible or satisfactory as themselves. 
He had a large store of arrows in his quiver, besides that which 
he had shot : nor can a reason be readily assigned for his pre^ 
erence of the one selected. The hypothesis which he formed, 
is, I presume, generally known, and known only to be repudi- 
ated. 'Our celebrated author, being obnoxious to the gout, 
poor, friendless, and, what is worst of all, blind with a gutta 
serena, could only dictate his verses to be writ by another: 
when it necessarily follows that any errors in pointing, spelling, 
nay, even in whole words, of a like or near sound, are not to be 
charged upon the poet, but the amanuensis. The friend or 
acquaintance to whom Milton committed his copy, and the 
overseers of the press, did so vilely execute that trust, that Par- 
adise, under his ignorance and audaciousness, may be said to 
be twice lost. But these typographical faults, occasioned by 
the negligence of his acquaintance, if all may be imputed to 
that, and not several wilfully made,^ were not the least blem- 
ishes brought upon our poem. For thia^upposed friend, know- 
ing Milton's bad circumstances, thought that he had a fit oppor- 
tunity to foist into the work several of his own verses, without 
the blind poet's discovery. This trick has too firequently been 

• See note on F. L. L 197. < Knowing by the pMngBi, that oar poet bUnd, and then 
poor and fliendlees, had fteqnently foul play.* 


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played, but especially in works published after the author's 
death; and poor Milton, in that condition, with sixty years' 
weight upon his shoulders, might be reckcMied half dead.' — 
The whole of this yisionary fabric seems to have been built by 
Bentley on the slender foundation that, owing to Milton's 
blindness, same mistakes in the text of the poem certainly did 
occur ; and that such a one, as is found in P. L. x. 260, should 
pervade both editions (being an error which Milton himself had 
no means of detecting), certainly betrays the negligence or ig- 
norance of those to whose care his edition was entrusted. 

Feeling as truly as others the absurdity of Bentley's system, 
the flatness of his prosaic alterations, and his great want of 
poetic feeling, I must still in justice say, that his remarks dis- 
play the shrewdness of a person accustomed to read with curious 
and scrutinizing attention,^ to pay regard to the proper force 
and meaning of words, and the construction of sentences ; that 
his observations are often ingenious, and his emendations some- 
times acute : but that which strikes me as peculiarly offensive, 
is the apparent carelessness and indifference with which he 
proceeds on his work of criticism. So far from approaching his 
author's text with a timid or reluctant hand, his boldest conjec- 
tures are proposed either with a confidence meant to overawe 

• Wartmrton lant Dr. Newton Po^e^ eopf of BenUey^ HOton, wbaratai Ftope bad ill 
■loDf with bit own band let aome mark of approbation, reetft, ban^, pnlcbrA, In the 
margin over against micb emendatJona of the Doctor's as seemed to lilm just and rea- 
sonable. It was a satMbction to'see what ao great a genins thought partienlarly of that 
edition, and be appears thron^oot the wliole to lia?e been a very candid reader, and 
to liaTe approted of mora than really merita approbation. Newton's Prefkce, p. 35. 

T. WarUm aaya, * Many oTBenUey's emendattona are acute, bat he did not understand 
Mman^ manner, nor the genius of the language of BngUah poetiy.' ▼. Todd's Hilton, 
vol. Tl. p. 307 ; see Honis*s Memoirs, p. 478. SSS. 


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the reader, and compel convictioii ; or, what is worse, with an 
apparent^ ^^ disregard as to whether they are accepted or not 
In P. L. ii. 1021, he strikes out the whole passage of Sin and 
Death following Satan, amounting to ten entire lines, and then 
says, ' Perhaps I shall have some votes to accompany mine, that 
this too is an interpolation.' As he approached the last pages 
of his work, and looked back on the deformities he had left 
behind him in his ruthless path, and when he saw the ragged 
and meagre branches of the Critic's ivy eating into the noble 
and finished column, round which it had been trained, he 
seemed to entertain some misgivings of the soundness and 
success of his plan. He says, ' If one small alteration appeared 
to be so presumptuous, what censure must I expect to receive, 
who have presumed to make so many I but jacta est alea, non 
injussa cecini. 

Oi *i fi8 T»/uij(rov(r», fMwTa dk fiTjTtira 'Z^f . 

Bentley's ungrounded hypothesis, and the alterations which he 
built upon it, called forth a volume of remarks from Dr. Zach- 
ary Pearce; which may be recommended as a model of 
sound and temperate reasoning in criticism. Bentley's inno- 

10 8m Uie Indlfftience thown In notes, iii. 597, !▼ 760, yU. 406. One of the moet 
oljectionable notes is ▼. 415, one Indicrously ingenions, yl. 513 $ those at vU. 463, Iz. 598, 
and zL 387, are flippant and trifling. The conjectiue, at zl. 187, is confirmed by Mil- 
ton's own editions, which Bentley did not Icnow. In one note he appears designedly 
w^uMl, (L 717,) where he accuses MDtoc of a fUse quantity in tlie nse of the word 
*8erapls.* Bentley of coune Icnew that the word was used with the middle syllable 
long : and Milton had a right to select the quantity most agreeable to his ear. Alcenside 
nsss the word * Hyperion* with the penultimate syllable long, and Ony with it Aoit ; 
the fonner adhering to the true quantity, the latter adopting the more a gie e a Me or con- 
venient pronunciation ; but Milton had aathority, though hiforlor, on his side. 


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Tatioiui are lor the most part related, bat in a manner noYW 
wanting in respect to the lame or the age of that lUastrioaB 

Since writing the above^ I have had an q>portanit7 of pera^ 
ing Newton's Life of Milton ; it is not written with any spirit 
or elegance of style, but it contains an impartial and accurate 
account of what is known of the Poet's history ; and there is a 
temperance and propriety in its language, that might put some 
later biographers to the blush. Occasionally a smile may be 
excited, when he speaks of Milton's never having hunted (Mil- 
ton hunting I !), or when he laments diat the sale of Paradise 
Lost produced only ten pounds to the author, while Mr. Hoyle 
gained two hundred by die copyright of his Game at Whist 
Some useful notes and illustrations have been added by 
Mr. Hawkins to the latest edition ;. but in one, he has unac- 
countably attributed the famous attack on Milton by Bishop 
Horsley, to a Prelate of very different opinions, talents, and 

Every successive volume of the biography of Milton is rapid- 
ly increasing in size. The elegant Memoir by Fenton is includ- 
ed in fifteen small pages ; the narrative of Dr. Symmons has 
extended to nearly seven hundred ; while the increase of bulk 
is not compensated by a proportionate accession of informer 
tion.^ Much vague and ingenious speculation, and much cu- 
rious erudition not always bearing on the subject, have been 
called in by later writers to supply the place of authentic ma- 
il Soe Newton*! MOton, ed. Hawkins, p. zlU. 

B T. Walton flnt bron^t * Maton*a Nnneupathw W1U> to Ught ; ud printed it In 
hit edition of tbe Minor Poomi; tliii wm b TiJaable and autbentie addition to ooY 
pwrjoni InformattoQ. ... 


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tenals ; and that which has reasonably been doubted, or durectly 
refated, still maintains its ground, as an arena, in which the 
writer may unfold the charms of his eloquence ; or the critics 
may display their controversial skill. It is however to be hoped, 
that, in all future biographies, what is neither pertinent nor true 
will be omitted ; that we shall not again read long disputations 
on the nature of Milton's punishment at College ; that the fool- 
ish and romantic story of the sleeping boy and the Italian lady 
wiU be forgotten, or be found only among the reveries of Miss 
Seward; that the supposed residence at Forest Hill (a day- 
dream of Sir William Jones) will be given up ; that we shall 
not hear of Milton's keeping school at Greenwich ;^3 that the 
insertion of the prayer into the Eikon Basilike from the Arcadia 
will be considered as set at rest ; that the story of Sir John 
Denham (the account of a person, not a member, being permit- 
ted to instruct and entertain the House of Commons with the 
history of a new poem wet from the press) may be heard no 
more ; and that Salmasius may be permitted to die in his old 
age without disgrace, or without the death-blow having been 
given by Milton's hand. The notes also of the commentators 
have swelled to a useless and disproportionate size; a great 
part of them is unnecessary and inconvenient; and a future 
edition of Milton, if one on a more elaborate plan than the pres- 
ent is required, might be contracted into a smaller compass 
than Newton's, without any omission of useful or elegant in- 

After a patient, and, in the leisure which I possess, a not 
unwilling perusal of the writings of Milton and Salmasius, I 
could wish to have exhibited to my readers a fuller account of 

18 See Newton's Life, p. zlil. 


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the controTersj, and to have affi>rded adequate ezami^efl of the 
comparative skill and talents of the writers ; but the contracted 
limits of my humble plan precluded any lengthened or copiooi 
detail ; nor could this subject be permitted to occupy more thaa 
its proportionate share without injury to others of equal or grea^ 
er importance. I found it also difficult to select what was valua- 
ble and interesting from much reasoning that was sophistical 
and distorted ; much that was trifling and minute ; some that 
rested on the support of obsolete and forgotten authorities; 
some that was wasted in the discussion of the remotest theories 
and the most abstract principles; and all intermingled with 
personal altercation, angry invective, and the intemperate ebul- 
litions of a carnal wrath. I found, too, that it would be diffi- 
cult, except perhaps to the curiosity of a few inquisitive scholars, 
to direct or detain the attention on the discussion of a subject 
which once held all Europe in suspense ; the progress of which, 
under the skill of the combatants, was watched with the most 
intense anxiety ; which employed the most powerful minds, and 
included the most important hiterests ; but which long since has 
passed away from the disputed possession of party writers, to re- 
main under the graver and more impartial protection of history. 

A few original notes attached to this edition, are the gradual 
result of the Editor's reading, and were written in the margin 
of the copy which he used. Some have been selected from the 
different commentators, whose observations have been diligent- 
ly collected by Mr. Todd ; and, for a few, the editor has been 
indebted to his amiable and most accomplished friend, the Rev. 
Alexander Dyce, to whose industry and talents, all who are 
interested in our early poetry must feel great obligations ; and 

VOL. I. c 


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from whose classical knowledge, sound judgment, and refined 
taste, that curious information which he is able to bestow, will 
be given with a precision, a temperance, and an elegance, ex- 
cept perhaps in the case of the learned and lamented Tyrwhitt, 
hitherto unknown among the editors of our elder poets. 

John Mitford. 

BenhaU, 20th Xtn. 1831. 


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John Milton, magnum et yenerabile nomen, the son of John 
Milton and Sarah Castor, a woman of incomparable virtue and 
goodness, and exemplary for her liberality to the poor, was 
bom^ in London on the 9th of December, 1608. His father 
was an eminent scrivener, and lived at the sign of the Spread 
Eagle^ (tj^^morial ensign of the family) in Bread Street He 
was educsSicL at Christ Church, Oxford, embraced the doctrines 
of the reformed church, and in consequence was disinherited 
by his father, who was a bigoted papist. The profession, how- 
ever, which he chose was so successful, as to enable him to give 
his chDdren a liberal education ;^ and to allow him to pass his 
latter years in the leisure and tranquillity of a country life. 

The grandfather of the poet was keeper of the forest of 
Shotover, in Oxfordshire, and his family had been long settled 

1 Baptized the zx Dee. 1608» sccording to the Regliter of Allhallows, Bread Street. 

9 T^iB houm, wherein be was bonii and which strangers used to visit before the fire, 
was part of his estate as long as be lived, v. Toland's Life, p. 148, on his inother*s 
family. See Birch's Life of Milton, p. 11. The fiunily of the Castors originally derived 
from Wales, as Philips tells as ; but \^%od asserts that she was of the ancient family 
of the Bradshaws, and a still later account informs us that she was a Haiighton, of 
Haughton Tower, in Lancashire, as appeared by her own arms, Sec Both Toland and 
Philips date his birth in 1606, but erroneously, for the inscription under his print in the 
Logic says that, in 1671, he was 63 years of age. Milton's armorial bearings were argent, 
an eagle displayed with two heads gules, legged and l>eaked sable. A small silver seal, 
with these arms, with which he was accustomed to seal his letters, was in the posses- 
sion of the late Dr. Disney. 

• He died about 1647, and was buried in Cripplegate Cfaarch. See T. Warton's note 
on Carmen ad Pattern, ver. 66, p. SS3, ed. seeond. Aubrey says he read without spec- 
tacles at 84. 


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at Milton,^ in that neighbourhood. They took, howeyer, the 
unfortunate side in the civil wars, their estate was sequestrated, 
and their rank and opulence consequently destroyed. 

Milton's father was a person of a superior and accomplished 
mind, and was greatly distinguished for his musical talents; in- 
deed, in science, he is said to have been equal to the very first 
musicians of the age.*^ He saw the early promises of genius 
in his son, and encouraged them by a careful and liberal edu- 
cation. Milton was at first placed under the domestic tuition 
of Thomas Young, a puritan minister, and native of Essex ; to 
whom he was in after life aiuch aUached, and to whom his 
fourth elegy, and the first of his Latin Epistles, are inscribed. 
A portrait of him, by Cornelius Jansen,^ when only ten years 
old, shows the affection of the parents for their handsome and 
accomplished child, who, even at that early age, was expanding 
the first flower of his youthful genius ; and whose v|^^ promise 
was ripening fast into works of finished and exquisHReauty. 

YooBg^ quitted England in 1623» and it is probable that in 

4 There have been aome doubts about the situation of the village of MUton. See 
Todd's Life, p. 2, and the note. Wood's Fasti Oxon. vol. i. art. 209. 

5 On a work called " A Blxefold Potltician, together with a Sixefold Precept of Policy, 
1609," attributed to him, see Mr. X. P. Collier's Poetical Decameron, vol. il. p. 305. 
Philips says, * That as I have been told, and I take it by our author himself, that his 
father composed an El Domine of forty ports, for which he was rewarded with a gold 
medal and chain, by a Polish prince, to whom he presented it, and that some of bis 
songs are to be seen in old Whitby's set of airs, besides some compositions of his in 
Ravenscroft's Psalms.* v. p. xli. ed. Pickering. Some beautiftU lines in Hilton's Poem 
<ad Furem' allude to his father's skill in music. 

* Ipse volens Phoebus se dispertire duobus, 
Altera dona mihi, dedit altera dona parenti, 
Dividuumque deum genitorque, puerque tenemas.' 
Bee Barney's Hist, of Music, vol. iii. p. 134. •In a littie book which I pooeas, the 
Psalms, by W. Slatyer, 12mo. 1643, one of the tunes is by J. MUton. Bee also Todd's 
Milton, vol. i. p. 4, and vi. p. 337, and Aubrey, Letters, vol. ill. p. 439 

• This picture was in the possession of T. Hollis, Esq. and is engraven by Cipriani, 
in hfs Memoirs, p. 96. It represents the youthfUl poet in a richly worked collar and 
striped Jacket. It was purchased by Mr. Hollis at C. Stanhope's sale, who bought it for 
twenty guineas of the executors of Milton's widow. The picture of Milton when about 
twenty, was in the possession of the Right Honourable Arthur Onslow. 

7 In Mr. Fellowes's translaUon of Milton's Letten printed in Dr. Symmoos'a edition, 
1806, why is the diiecdon of Milton's Letters to Young translated to Thomas Joss? 
For an account of T. Toung, see Todd's Bfilton, vol. vi. p. 199, 907. Young wtunied 


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the same year, lUiltoii was admitted into St. Paul's Schod, un- 
der the care of Alexander Gill.^ His unwearied love of study, 
had already commenced ; ' Ab anno/ he says, ' statis duodecimo 
▼ix unquam ante mediam noctem a lucubrationibus cubitum 
discederem;' and Aubrey adds, 'that when Milton went to 
school, he studied very hard, and sate up very late, commonly 
till twelve or one o'clock, and his father prdered the maid to 
sitt up for him.' In a letter to his preceptor, dated not long 
after this time, he says — ' Haec scripsi Londini, inter urbana di- 
verticula, non Ubris, ut soko circumseptus.* 

Thus early and deep were laid the foundations of his future 
fame. His studies were in a great measure poetical. Humphrey 
Lownes, the printer, who lived in the same street, supplied him 
with Spenser, and Sylvester's translation of Du Bartas : his ad- 
miration of the former is known to all ; the attention which he 
paid to the more obscure, and now almost forgotten poet, was 
pointed out more iuUy than before, by my late ingenious friend 
Mr. Charles Donster, in a little work which he called Milton's 
Early Reading,* or the Prima Stamina of Paradise Lost 

to Eni^d in or before tbe year 1606 ; lie wae afterwards master of Jeaua Col. Oarab. 
and Tkar of Blow Market, in Suffolk. Milton» in his Elegy, ver. 83, says to him : 
< Te tamen Interea belli elrcnmsonat horror, 
YiTis et ignoto Mhu tMfwfM solo.* 

• See an account of Al. Gill, in Wood's Ath. Ozon. vol. ii. p. 23, and T. Warton*a 
mhon, p. 410. I possess a copy of Gill's Parerga, sive Poetici Conatus, IShno. 163S, 
that bekmfsd to Is. Casaubon. A. GUI most have been a decided royalist, for be has 
several poems addressed to the rqyal ftmily, and to the bishops. He has an epistle, as 
Ifilton has, to his Father, p. 14. There is a line resembling one in Milton's verses to 
Christina. (< Christina aivtol Lucida stella poll !') 

* Pene snb arttoi sidere regna poll !> 

In Ml]too*s third Elegy, ver. 9, are these lines, which poxxled the oommentaton till 
Sir D. Oaliymple explained them to T. Warton. 

* Tunc memini clarique duels, ftatrlsqne vexendl 
Intempestivis ossa cremata rogis.' 

bl his Tiilii Bpttaphium, p. 91, Gill mentions who thsse brothers in arms wera. 

* daem nee Mmufdtmt, qnem nee BrwMniiu heros 
Anna nee annorum quem domuen decem ;' 

L e. Mansfelt and the Duke of Branswick. Gill speaks of himself In the Preflice ; 
* Bactenns vitam egl nescio qua stdenim incleoienti&, hominnm et fortunn i^Juriis per- 
petao ooUuctaatem.* 

• That Milton read and borrowed fkom Sylvester in his asriy^Msis, no one who reads 
Mr. Danst«r*s book can nasonaUy doobC Bylvwter had the Jewels, and MUtoii nc 


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Aubrey says, Milton was a poet when only ten years dd. 
Those who are interested in watching the early dawning of 
genius as it opens on the youthful mind ; and in comparing the 
different periods in which great talents have displayed both the 
promise, and the direction of their future power ; will not be 
displeased at my recalling to their memory the passage in that 
elegant biography of Cowley, which Spratt addressed to their 
mutual friend Martin Clifford, and in which he mentions the 
age when Cowley first became inspired by the muse, and the 
book that excited his youthful imagination. There is a singular 
coincidence between these two great contemporaries, in the 
dates assigned by their respective biographers. ' Yix dum 
decennis,' says Spratt, ' Poeta factus est.' We shall be less 
surprised to hear that Spenser was alike the object of their 
early admiration — * legendo Spensero nostro, Scriptore sane il- 
lustri, et vel adultis difficili.' Happy had it been for Cowley's 
fame, had he not early wandered away from the instructor of 
his youth ; and left, for Epic and Pindaric flights, that which 
even now delights, and must for ever please — his moral song, 
the voice of nature and of truth, the language of his heart. 

In 1623, Milton produced his translations of the 114th and 
136th Psalms ; and in his se^nteenth^^ year, he was sent from 
St. Paul's school, and admitted a pensioner at Christ's College, 
Cambridge, on the 12th of February, 1624.^1 He was there 
early distinguished for the elegance of his versification, and his 
unusual skill in the Latin tongue. A well-known passage in 

them beautlAilly. Du Bartas*s fkme it now in AiU blosaom in Germany, and has re- 
ceived the pralie ofOoBTHB himself. He ii eonaidered at Dresden and at Weimar as 
one of the greatest poeta that ever appeared. 

u Anthony Wood and Toiand assert that he was sent to Cambridge in his fifteenth 
year, but erroneously. See Birch's Life, p. 3. 

n He was admitted Pensionarius minor, under Mr. William Chappell, afterwards 
provost of Trinity College, Dublin, and dean of Cassels, and at last bishop of Cork, to 
whom, among others, the celebrated treatise of the Whole Duty of Man has been im- 
puted. See Birch's Life, p. 111. MUton took his first degree in Jan. ieaB--8, and that 
of Master of Arts in 1632. See Symmons*s Pref. to Life, p. 5—7. He was transferred 
flrom Mr. Chappell (though contrary to the rules of the college) to Mr. ToveU, 
(Tovey), V. Aubrey, Lett. iil. p. 445; he was admitted A. M. at Oxford, in 1635, v. 
Wood's Fasti, i. p. fXO, 


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his first Elegy certainly betrays some displeasure which he i^lt, 
or alludes to some indignities which he sufTered from the sever- 
ity of Collegiate discipline : this was probably occasioned by 
the freedom of his censures on the established system of educa- 
tion, ^^ and his reluctance to conform to it. In his Reason of 
Church Government, he says, 'their honest and ingenuous 
natures, coming to the Universities to store themselves with good 
and solid learning, are there unfortunately fed with nothing 
else but the scragged und thorny lectures of monkish and mis- 
erable sophistry ; were sent home again with such a scholastical 
bur in their throats, as hath stopped and hindered all true and 
generous philosophy from entering; cracked their voices ibr 
ever with metaphysical gargarisms ; hath made them admire a 
sort of formal outside men, prelatically addicted, whose unchas- 
tened and over-wrought minds were never yet initiated, nor 
subdued under the true love of moral or religious virtue, which 
two are the best and greatest points of learning: but either 
slightly trained up in a kind of hypocritical and hackney course 
of literature to get their living by, and dazzle the ignorant, or 
else fondly over-studied in useless controversies, except those 
which they use, with all the specious and delusive subtlety they 
are able, to defend their prelatical Sparta.'— ^And in his Apology 
for Smectymnus, he says, — 'That suburb wherein I dwell shall 
be in my accounts a more honourable place, than his Univer- 
sity ; which as in the time of her better health, and mine 
own younger judgment, I never greatly admired, so now much 
less ;'^3 — and in his third letter to his friend and tutor Alexan- 

B Tbe author of a Modest Confbtatloii against a Blanderous and Bcarrilous Libel, flnt 
eharged htm with being vomited oat of tbe nnivenity, after an Inordinate and riotont 
youth spent there ; and the author of * Kegli Sanguinis Clamor* repeated the calumny. 
'Aiunt hominem Cantabrigtensl academla ob flagitia pulsum, dedecus, et patiiam 
fbgiflse et in Italiam commigrasse.* * The former tract,' Milton says, In his Apology for 
Bmectymnus, * was reported to be written by tbe son of Bishop Hall.* 

IS See his Tractate on Education, where he speaks against the prepoaterous exaction 
of composing Themes and Orations, and the ill habit they got of wretched barbarizing 
against the Greek and Latin idioms,—* and then having really left gnunmatical flats and 
shallows, to be presented with the most intellectoa] abstractions of logic and metaphysics, 
to be tossed and tormoiled hi the fluhomleas deepe of controversy, to be deluded with 


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der Gill, he expresses the same opinion, concerning the superiv 
cial and smattering learning of the University and of the manner 
in which the clergy engage with raw and untutored judgments 
in the study of theology, patching together a sermon with pil- 
fered scraps, without any acquaintance with criticism or philos- 
ophy. Again, in his Animadversions on the Remonstrant's 
Defence, he says, — * What should I tell you how the Uni- 
versities, that men look should be the fountains of learning 
and knowledge, have been poisoned and choked under your gov- 
ernance V 

Milton's natural genius, cultivated by the care of those ex- 
cellent scholars, who had conducted his education, and enrich- 
ed by his own indefatigable study, had doubtless made great 
advances in those branches of knowledge at once congenial to 
his mind, and conducive to its improvement; and he might 
feel unwilling to be diverted from them, into the barren and un- 
profitable pursuits, which the old system of collegiate education 
too often required ;^^ that which he disliked or despised, his 

ragged noticmfl and babblements, to be dragged to an asinine flsast of sow-thiatlea and 
brambles. '—With tbese opinions, when called upon by the college for Latin themes on 
logical and metaphysical sabjects (see his Prolusiones), cannot we easily conceive the 
rebellion or discontent, the out-breaks and flashes of his fiery mind ? 

M The following passage in Milton's Pndusiones has been overlooked, which throws 
some light on the subject of his discussion with the college, and his renewed union. 
(▼. p. 115.) Be disliked some parts of their studies, probably their logical and meta- 
physical Theses, and expressed his opinion too fteeiy, or perhaps did not perform the 
tasks that were required. I feel convinced that the whole ground of offence, so much 
disputed, is to be found in this point. 

*Tum nee mediocrlter me pellezit, et invltavit ad has partes sobeundas vestra, (voa 
qui ejusdem estls mecum Collegii) in me nttperrims comperta faeUitat, cum enim ante 
prcteritos menses, aliquam multos oratorio apud vos munere perAincturus essem, puta- 
remque lucubrationes meas qualescunque etlam ingratas propimodum futuraa, et 
mltlores habituras Judices .£acum et Minoa, quam e vobis fere quemlibot, sane prcter 
opinionem meam, prcter meam si quid, erat specuiie, non vulgari sicuti ego accepi, imo 
ipse sensl om»mm piaiuu excepts sunt mmo eortam quiin me alias propter studionan die- 
sutis eeemt proreut tttfeuee, et i$timieo amvM ; generosum utique simultatis exercendai 
genus, et regie pecttwe non Indignum, slquidem cum ipsa amicitia plerumque multa in- 
culpate fkcta detorquere soleat, tumeprqfectio aerie et infesta inmiatia errata f or eOan maZts, 
tthamdpmu* mm imJbie ii^dieerie dietiOj leaUer et demaUius quam memm erat mmCvm inter-' 
fretari «m grmahatmr. Jam samel unieo hoc exempio vel ipsa demens ira mentis com- 
pos Ailsse. videbatur, et hoe facto Airoris InfamJam aUuisse. At vero summopere 
oUector, et mlimn in modam voluptate perflindor, cum videam toMlA doetienmorum Ae- 


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love of freedom on all subjeoU, and in every situatioD, forbade 
him to conceal. It is probable that he underwent a temporary 
rustication. This however b certain, — ^that all misunderstand- 
ing was removed, and that he soon acquired the kindness and 
respect of the society with which he lived : he says, — ^* It hath 
given me an apt occasion to acknowledge publicly with all grate- 
ful mind, that more than ordinary favour and respect, which I 
found above any of my equals at the hands of these courteous 
and learned men, the fellows of the college wherein I spent 
some years ; who, at my parting, after I had taken two degrees, 
as the manner is, signified many ways, how much better H would 
content them, if I would stay, as by many letters full of kindness, 
and loving respect, both before that time and long after, I was 
assured of their singular good affection towards me :" — and in 
another place he speaks of himself, as 

* Proeol ooliiI flagilio, ttiw 0mmhu prateCua.' 

In 1628, he wrote some lines on the subject, * Naturam non 
pati senium,' as an Academical exercise, to oblige one of the 
follows of the coUege ; and T. Warton says of it, ' that it b re- 
plete with fanciful and ingenious allusions, it has also a vigour 
of expression, a dignity of sentiment, and elevation of thought 
rarely found in very young writers.' This praise is just : but 
its Laxity is not so flowing, or elegant, as that of his later 

Milton was designed by his parents for the profession of the 
church ; but during his residence at the University, he changed 
his intention. Dr. Newton considers that he had conceived 
early prejudices against the doctrine and discipline of the church; 
but Johnson seems to think that his objections lay not so much 
against subscription to the articles, but related to canonical 
obedience. His own account is as follows ;^^ "By the intention 
of my parents and friends, I was destined of a child to the ser- 
vice of the church, and in mine own resolutions. Till coming 

u 8«e R«Mon of Ctaureh Gorenunent nrgod agftliifi Pielaey. Vol. i. p. 199 
VOL. 1. D 


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to some maturity of years, and perceiving what tyranny had in- 
Taded the church, that he who would take orders, must sub6cril)e 
Slave, and take an oath withal, which unless he took with a 
conscience that he would relish, he must either straight perjure 
or split his faith ; I thought better to prefer a blameless silence 
before the sacred office of speaking, bought and begun with 
servitude and forswearing." 

- In whatever line his objections lay, his youthful decisions seem 
to have been but little controlled by the exercise of parental au- 
thority ; for in the beautiful lines which he addresses to his father, 
in the Latin language, he says, 

* Neque enim, Pater, ire jabebas, 

dua via lata patet, qua pronior area lucri 
Certaque condendl ftilget ipes aarea nummi, 
Nee rapifl ad leges, male cuatoditaque gentia 
Jura, nee iiuulais damnaa clamoribaB aurea. 
Sed magiB ezcaltam cupiens ditescere meDtem, 
Me procul urbano itrepitu, BecessibuB altis 
Abductum, Aonias Jucunda per otia Rips;, 
PhcDbeo later! comilem ainia ire b'eatum ?> 

In 1632, he left the University, and retired to his father's 
house at Horton,i^ in Buckinghamshire, making occasional 
visits to London to meet his friends, to buy books, or to learn 
something new in mathematics or music. Here he resided five 
years, passing his time in regular and severe study ; for he is 
said to have read over all the Greek and Latin writers : John- 
son says, ' that this account must be received with limitations ;' 
but five years well employed would leave few of the ancient au- 
thors unperused : I think Wyttenbach has mentioned his having 
read through Atheneeus in fourteen days ; and Joseph Scaliger 

16 ThiB bouse at Horton was pulled down about fourteen years ago. See Symmons's 
Life, p. 93. Milton's fkther bad some country house besides this, nearer to London, of 
which we have bad no notice. Milton'B letter to A. Gill is dated * E noatro Suburbano,* 
Dec 4, 1634. And see bis Elegy i. ver. 50. 

* Nob quoque Incus habet v1cin& consitua ulmo, 
Atque Suburbam nobilis umbra loci.' 
and In ProluBiones (p. 136.) he says, * Testor ipse lucoa, et flumina, et iOedatvinarum 
tJmotf sub quibus (estate proximo pneterita (si dearum arcana eloqui liceat), sununam 
cum musis gratiam habuisse me Jucunda memorla recolo, ubi et ego inter nira, et semo- 
toa aaltua velut occulto evo creacere mihi potuisBe viaua sum.* 


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bas left on record the short time in which he finbhed both the 
Homeric Poems. What then might not Milton's enthusiastic 
pursuit of knowledge, and his unwearied industry perform 1 He 
says of himself at this time, 

* Et totum rapiunt, mo, mea vita, libri.' 

In this studious retirement, and under the shelter of hb pa- 
ternal roof, it is believed that he wrote his Arcades, Comus, 
L' Allegro, II Penseroso, and Lycidas. In the neighbourhood 
of Horton, the Countess Dowager of Derby resided, and the 
Arcades was performed by her grandchildren at their seat, called 
Harefield Place. Was erer lady on her return to the hall 
of her ancestors, crowned with such poetic garlands, or greeted 
by a welcome so elegant as this? Some of his letters to Charles 
Deodati give us interesting particulars of his studies and habits 
of life. — ' You well know (he says) that I am naturally slow in 
writing, and averse to write. It is also in my favour, that your 
method of study is such as to admit of frequent interruptions, in 
which you visit your friends, write letters, or go abroad ; but it 
is my way to suffer no impediment, no love of ease, no avQcation 
whatever, to chill the ardor, to break the continuity, or divert the 
completion of my literary pursuits.' In a subsequent letter, the 
honourable ambition of his youthful mind opens itself without 
reserve to his familiar friend : ' Hear me,' he writes, ' my Deo- 
dati, and suffer me, for a moment, to speak without blushing in 
a more lofly strain. Do you ask what I am meditating? by the 
help of heaven, an immortality of fame ; but what am I doin^ ? 
me^ogwio. I am letting my wings grow and preparing to fly, but 
my Pegasus has not yet feathers enough to soar aloft in the fields 

of air You shall likewise have some information 

respecting my studies. I went through the perusal of the Greek 
authors to the time when they ceased to be Greeks. I was long 
employed in unravelling the obscure history of the Italians un- 
der the Lombards, the Franks, and Germans, to the time 
when they received their liberty from Rodolphus, King of 


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To B. Bonmatthaei he writes of his proficiencj in the riehest 
and most melodioas of modern tongues. ' I who certainly have 
not merely wetted the tip of my lips in the stream of these lan- 
guages, but, in proportion to my years, have swallowed the most 
copious draughts, can yet sometimes retire with avidity and 
delight to feast on Dante, Petrarch, and many others ; nor has 
Athens itself been able to confine me to the transparent wave of its 
Ilissus, nor ancient Rome to the banks of its Tiber, so as to pre- 
vent my visiting with delight the stream of the Amo, and the hills 

The^"^ Masque of Comus was presented at Ludlow, in 1634, 
then the residence of the Lord President of Wales, and was 
acted by the^® Earl of Bridgewater's sons, and his young daugh- 
ter the Lady Alice Egerton. The story is said to have been 
founded on a circuniBtance that took place in the family of the 
Earl not long before ; and Milton wrote his Masque at the re- 
quest of Henry Lawes, the celebrated musician. Dr. Johnson 
observes that the fiction is derived from Homer's Circe, but 
later investigations have discovered a closer resemblance in the 
Comus of Erycius Puteanus, and the Old Wives' Tale of George 
Peele.^^ It is one of the most beautiful and, with the exception of 

17 Tbe original maniucript of Comus la tai Trio. Coll. Libraiy -, it was found among 
oUier papen that once belonged to Sir Henry Newton Puckering, a benefactor to tbe 
library, and was printed at London in 1637, 4to. Warton eays, * It was with great dif- 
llculty and relactance that Hilton fint appeared as an author.' Some acoount of Sir 
N. Puckering may be read in Warton's Milton, p. 578, and the original various readings 
to the Lycidaa, Comus, and smaller poems fiom the Manuscript, p. 578 to 500. On the 
few ▼arladona not noticed by Warton, see Class. Journal, No. zxiii. p. 911. There is 
one rather curious : 

* Wliile aJl the starry rounds, and arches blue 
Sesound, and echo Hallelu !' 
A BanuseripC copy of Comus Is also in the Bridge water Hbrar>', at Asliridge, (see Todd's 
Comus, p. 165,) before it was corrected. 

IS Milton loet the friendship of the Bridge water family by his Defensio. In a copy 
of it in Lord Staffbrd's library, tlie Earl (who performed the part of the first brother) 
wrote ' Liber igne, autor flirc& dignissimi.* On this account Lawes' dedication is sup- 
posed to have been withdrawn from the subsequent editions. ▼. Todd^ p. 3. 

» Bee 6. Peele's Works by the Rev. A. Dyee, vol. i. p. 904. ed. 1899. Is. Reed flrat 
directed attention to this play, then almost unknown. For eztraots from Puteanus, see 
Todd*a ed. of Comus, p. 57. 69. 




a hw passages, one <^ the most finished Poems m our kngnage. 

It has all the sweetness of Fletcher, with a richer structure of 
Tersification, more foreign idioms, more learned allusions, and a 
higher reach of fancy. It does not rise into all the wildness of 
the romantic fahle, only because it is guarded and subdued bj 
a chaste and elegant judgment. Sir Henry Wotton was pecu- 
liarly delighted in the lyrical parts, with what he quaintly, but 
not incorrectly call»— ' a certain Doric delicacy in the songs and 
odes.' And Warburton speaks of the bright vein of its poetry, 
intermixed with a soilness of description.^ T. Warton observes 
* that Comus is a suke of speeches not interesting by discrimi* 
nation of character, not conveying variety of incidents, nor grad- 
ually exciting curiosity ; but perpetually attracting attention by 
sublime sentiment, and fanciful imagery of the richest vein, by 
an exuberance of picturesque description, poetical allusion, and 
ornamental expression.' ^^ 

In November, 1637, he wrote Lycidas, an elegy occasioned 
by the death of a young and very accomplished person, Mr. 
King, who was the friend of Milton, and a great favourite at 
Cambridge. Milton's Poem was published at the end of a small 
volume of Elegies, with which the University honoured the mem- 

90 On tbe sjntem of * orthography' adopted by Milton in this and hia other poemai 
eonmlt Capel Loa*8 Preface to Par. Lost, 4to. 176S, and Todd'i Preface to Comna, p. 
viU., and Rlchardaon*a Life, p. cxzx. 
u It haa been aaked where an illiiatntion moatbe aoo^ forthee ipi ea ahM , var.SBa^ 
* At erery All, nnoothing the ra^an down 
Of darkneaa tUI it amaed :* 
and the entln aOeaee of the conunentaton haa been remarked. I ahaU, therelbre, o^ 
aarve that there ean be no doubt, but that Mttton had the Ibllowlnf paaaifs In Baj- 
vrood'a Love*8 IflatreaM befiwa Um. 1. 

* Time*8 eldeat daoghter. Night, mother of Eaae, 
Then gentle none, that with iweet IjiUabiea 
Care-waking hearta to gentle alumber chann'at I 
Thoa smooth cheekM negro, Night, the blaek eyed Qneeii, 
That rid*Bt about the world on the «^ tote 
Of dnmy Jlae«M aleilM fful «aU«pteiiuv, 
And fhu thy eharlot jOaat dMbuMa fliBii^ 
In which man, beaat, and bird enveloped, 
Takaa thabr rapoaaand net.' 


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orj of their student Some of the songs of Ltcioas I hare 
read, for 

* He koew 

Himfleir to ting, and build the lofty rhyme !* 

thej are, for the most part, complimentary effusions on the birth 
of the children of Charles the First ; hot I have discovered 
nothing that I could extract with advantage.^ The beautiful 
monody of Lycidas shows an intimate acquaintance with the Ital- 
ian metres ; and to one poem, the Alcon^ of Balth. Castiglione, 
it is more peculiarly indebted for some of its imagery. It dift- 
covers also Milton's familiarity with our elder poets, and sup- 
ported by the authority of his * Master Spenser ,'^^ in similar al- 
lusions ; it has mixed up with its pastoral beauties a stem and 
early avowal of his hostility to the church.^ The short, but 

B Edward King, of Chriet*s Coll. Camb. eon of Sir John King, Secretary for Ireland 
in the time of Elisabeth, Jamea, and Chariee. He waa drowned on the paasaffe fhun 
Chester to Ireland. See Blrch*i Life, p. irii. for an aecount of the collection In which 
MUlon*B Poema were published. The names of T. Famaby, H. More, J. Beanmont, 
Cleaveland, W. Hall, are in the Mm. of contributors. The sbipwrecli of Mr. King took 
place on the 10th of Aug. 1637 ; it appears that he might have escaped with some othera 
in the boat ; for an account of his poetry, see Warton's Milton, p. 39, second ed. 

88 See Class. Journal, No. Ixiil. p. 356, by G. N. Ogle. 

M There is among Spenser's Poems a Pastoral iEglogue on Sir P. Sydney's death, by 
li. B. which Milton had read when he wrote Lycidas. t. Tpdi*s SptMMr, toI. tUI. p. 

9S Mr. Peck thinks that the manner in which MUton has dispersed his rhymes tn 
Lycidas, Is an attempt, tkoufk ««ere(Iy, to give a poetical hnage or draught of the math*> 
matical canon of music : he informs us how to make this out, * by dnwimf m how Ihu 
from rkfm* tc rJkyiM,' he consideri the whole poem as a lesson of music consisting of 
such a number of bars. The rhymes are the several chords In the bar: the odd dis- 
persion of the rhymes may be compared to the beautiAil way of sprinkling the keys of 
an or^n. Re says, Dryden imagined the rhymes fell so, because Mister Milton could 
not help it. I think they lie so, because Mr. Milton designed it. v. New Memoirs, 4U>, 
p. 33. Mr. Peck has (hvoured us with stage directions for Paradise Lost ; as— Enter 
Adam, with his arms across. Adam pauses. Thunder and Lightning. Eve approaches 
him. Adam Hcko at her. Eve embraces his legs. Eve is ready to feint, &c. He con- 
sideri Paradise Lost as partly formed out of Gnsman d'Alferache, the Spanish Rogue. 
He says Mr. Fenton was a good Judge wikeii As took tinu to eomaidor tkwgo, p. 63 ; be has 
composed an epitaph for Mr. Milton, out of Val. Maximus, p. 101. He says, * His tip, 
and whiskeri (an essay towards a beard), were of a thiek, lightish colour,* p. 103 } that 
his eyes were black at twenty-six, but blue at sixty. He is satlsfled that Milton could 
take an organ to pieces, and clean It, and put it together vrithoot help, p. Ill ; this he 
deduces fh>m Par. Lost, i. 709 ; be thinks * duck^ ana nods' in Comas a sneer at the 
country people. He mentions Eve's Instituting a religioas order of yuung women, who 


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exqnisitely beautiful poem, called ' the Arcades/ was, as I have 
previously said, composed about this time ; Milton wrote only 
the poetical part, the remainder probably consisted of prose and 

Having completed his circle of study in the retirement of the 
country, Milton became anxious to enjoy the learned society, 
and the refined amusements of town. ' Excipit hinc fessum 
sinuosi pompa Theatri.' He writes to Deodati, I will tell yott 
seriously what I design. — ' To take chambers in one of the inns 
of court, where I may have the benefit of a pleasant and shady 
walk, and where with a few associates I may enjoy more com- 
fort, when I choose to stay at home, and have a more elegant 
society when I choose to go abroad : in my present situation 
you know in what obscurity I am buried, and to what incon* 
veniences I am exposed.' — ^His seventh Elegy discovers that 
these shady^^ and suburban walks were enlivened by forms that 
made no light impression even on a scholar's heart, 

Et modo qua nostii spatlantur in urbe dnlrhes, 

Et modo villaram proxima mra placent ; 
Turfoa frequeiis, facieque simiUima turba deaiiim 
* Splendid^ per mediaa itqiie redjtque viaa. 
HflBC ego non ftigi spectacuJa grata seTenu, 

Impetus et quo me fert JuTenilis agor. 
Unam forte aliii super eminuisse notabam, 

Principium nostri lux erat ilia mall. 
8ic Venus optaret mortalilniB ipsa ylderi, 

8ie regina dedm consplcienda lUit. 
Interea miaero, qus Jam mitai sola placebaft 

Ablata est, oculis non reditura meia. 
Am efo progiedior taoite querebandua, et exoora, 

Et dubioa voiul s«pe referre pedem. 

were to continue virgins, 196 ; he speaks of Milton's great intlmaey with Mrs. Thomp- 
son, p. 274. He considers King Charles the Fbst a twry r^vfrn' perton for Hilton to 
present a poem to, by order of the House of Commons, p. 984. The Biography of Mil- 
ton reads very differenUy through the medium of the labotioua Mr. Todd, and the lepid 
Mister Pecli. 

9> In the time of Milton's youth, the flishionable places of walking In London were 
Hyde Park, and Gray*s Inn Walka. See Walton's QnbtaUons (torn Sir A. Cockalne's 
Poems, p. 470. In his Prolusiones, p. 113, he mentions the pleasures of I^iuton,' * Com 
ex e& urbe, quo caput urbium est, hue nuper me reciperem. Academic), deliciamm 
omnium, quibus is looos supra modum affluit, usque ad saglnam, prope dlxeilm, «titr| 




These plans of life were suddenly^ changed by his mother's 
death in 1637,^'^ and he then obtained his father's permission to 
go abroad. He left England in 1638, having previously ob- 
tained some directions for his travels from Sir Henry Wotton ; 
and, as a presiding maxim of prudence, and means of safety, 
amid civil broils, and spiritual dissensions, he was desired to 
recollect the following sentence, which that experienced states- 
man had also impressed on other travellers. — ' I pensieri stretti, 
ed il vise sciolto.' 

On his arrival at Paris, by the favour of Lord Scudamore, he 
was presented to Grotius, then residing at the French court, as 
ambassador from the celebrated queen of Sweden. Philips says, 
' that Grotius took the visit kindly, and gave him entertainment 
suitable to his worth, and the high commendations he had heard 
of him.' After a residence of a few days, he proceeded directly 
to Nice, and embarked for Genoa,* from thence he passed 
through Leghorn and Pisa in his way to Florence. Milton had 
studied the language and literature of Italy with peculiar dili- 
gence and success ; and at Florence he found himself honoura- 

■perabam mihi iterum allquando oCiuiii Ulud Litemrium, qun ego vita genera etiam 
c<Ble«tei animas gaudere opinor; eraique penltui In anlmo Jam tandem abdero me In 
Literaa et Jucundiuimn Philoeopbia perdiua et per nox assidera, iia semper aMolet 
laborii et volaptatifl vicissitudo amovere satietatis tsdium,' &c. 

9T Mr. Godwin Bays, * There Is great conAision among all the btographers of Milton, 
respecting the period of his travels, and this conAision originates with Milton himself.* 
Bee his Life of Philips, p. 357. 


Rise, Genoa, rise in beauty flrom the sea. 

Old Dorla*s blood is flowing in thy veins I 

Rise, peerless in thy boauty 1 what remains 

Of thy old glory Is enough for me. 

Flow then, ye emerald waters, bright and free I 

And breathe, ye orange groves, along her plains; 

Ye foonulns, sparkle through her marble fknes : 

And hang aloft, thou rich and purple sky, 

Hang up thy gorgeous canopy : thou Sun ! 

Shine on her marble palaces that gleam 

Like sUver in thy never-dying beam t 

Think of the years of glory siie has won ; 

She must not sink befofs her race is nm, 

Sot her long age of conquest seem a dream. 
Omm, .4^,1869. i. M. 


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Uy receiTed by the most enlightened peraons,^ as well as by 
the learned academicians. He formed a friend^p with Gaddi, 
Carlo Dati, Frescobaldi, and other ingenious scholars. Dati 
presented him with an encomiastic inscription in Latin, and 
Francini with an Italian ode. A manascript entitled, La 
* Tina/ by Antonio Malatesti^ was also dedicated to him while 
he was at Florence,, by its author. His visit to the great and 
injured Galfleo must not pass unnoticed. Most of the biogra- 
phers of Milton have asserted that our poet visited the philoso- 
pher in prison ; but the superior information of Mr. Walker has 
proved that Galileo was never a prisoner in the inquisition at 
Florence, but was confined at Rome, and at Sienna. After 
his liberation, he went to Arcetri, where it is probable that Milton 
saw him. 

From Florence he passed to Sienna, and then to Rome, 
where he resided two months, experiencing the civilities, and 
partaking the hospitality of the learned, and the great. L. Hol- 
stenius, an eminent scholar, was at that time keeper of the Vat- 
ican Library ; he introduced Milton to Cardinal Barbarini, who 
was ' the peculiar guardian, or patron of the English ;' and who, 
at a musical entertainment waited for our youthful poet at the 

9B See Ide Tenei to his Mend, Oior. Saliilli, 10. 

Hcc ergo alumnas llle Londlni MiUo 

Venit feracee Itali loli ad glebai 

Yisom saperML cognitae nrbee fluni 

Yirosqae, doctaque indolem Javentatia. 
See alio his Epit. Damonis, ver. 137. 

dain et nostra suas docoemnt nomina Ihfos 

Et Datis, et Aiondmw^erant et vocibos ambo 

Et Btvdiis notl, l^ydonim sanguinis ambo. 
» The fbll iltle of this work is < La Tina, Equivoci Rasticall di Antonio Malatesti, 
exposti nella sua villa de Taiano il Septembre dell* anno 1637. Sonnetti Cinquante, 
dedicate all* l\\o Signore, e Padrone offne il Signer Giovanni Milton nobil* Inghilese.* 
This manuscript was discovered by Mr. Brand on a book'Stall ; it was sent as a present 
to the Academia della Crusca, but came back to England, and was sold by Evans the 
auctioneer^ in Pall Mall. See Todd's Life, p. 34. Mr. Hollis searched unsuccessfliUy 
the Laurentian Libra]7 for six Italian sonnets of Milton, addressed to his friend Chi- 
mentelii ; for other Italian and Latin compositions, and for his.marble bust, said to be 
at Florence, v. Warton's Milton, p. 333. HoUis's Memoifa, p. 167, 481. 
VOL. I. E 


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door, and presented him with respect to the company .3<> Milton 
speaks of the Cardinal as one ' Cujus magnse virtutes, rectique 
studium ad provocandas item omnes artes liberales ^gregie com- 
paratom, semper mihi ob oculos versatur.' Salselli and Selvaggi 
praised him in some common-place verses, (yet the best, I sup- 
pose, which they could give) ; and wherever he went, admira- 
tion and esteem accompanied him. 

From Rome he passed on to Naples, in company with a her- 
mit, to whom he owed his introduction to Manso, Marquis of 
Villa, a nobleman of distinguished rank and fortune (who had 
supported a military character with high reputatbn,) of unblem- 
ished morals, a polite scholar, and known to posterity as the 
friend, the patron, and the biographer of Tasso.^^ To him Mil- 
ton addressed a beautiful Latin poem, in which he expresses 
his hope, if he could find such a friend and patron as Manso, 
of celebrating in verse the exploits of King Arthur and his 

Si quendo indigenas revocabo in carmina regei 
Jtrturum^ue etiam sub terrifl belJa moventem ; 
Aut dicam invictc socialt fosdere menss 
Magnanimoa heroaa, et O modo Bptritus adalt 
Frangam Sazonicaa Britoniun sub Marte Phalanges 

Dr. Johnson very justly says, that this poem must have raised 
a high opinion of English elegance and literature among the 
scholars of Italy. 

From Naples he intended to visit Sicily and Greece ; but he 
now heard of the commencement of the quarrel between the king 

80 It was at the concerts of Baibarini, that MHton heard Leonora Baroni sing; who, 
with her mother, Adriana of Mantua, was esteemed the first singer In the world. Mil- 
ton has celebrated her in three Latin epigrams. It was the fiuhion for all ingenious 
strangers who visited Rome to leave some verses in her praise. Pietro della Valle, who 
wrote in 1640, on the Muses of his Time, speaks of the fknclftil and masteriy style in 
which Leonora touciied the Arch lute to her own accompaniments, v. Warton's Milton, 
p. 479. 

- 81 Tasso mentions Manso in the twentieth book of his Gierosal. LilMrata, among 
other princes of Italf . He addressed to him Ave sonnets. Manso was also the patron 
of Bfarino ; and was the biographer of both these Illustrious poets. Mr. Walker, when 
at Naples, endeavoured to discover the villa where Manso had received the visits of 
Mttton vid Taaso. See Hist. Mem. 1709 ; App. p. xxvi. xxzi. 


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and the parliament ; and he thought it his duty to hasten home, 
where his countrymen were contending for their rights, rather 
than to pursue the enjoyments of more extended travel. ' Turpe 
enim existimabam, dum mei cives de libertate dimicarent^ me 
animi causa, otiose peregrinari.' He returned by way of Rome, 
though some merchants had informed him of the enmity of the 
Jesuits on account of his freedom of conversation ; and Manso 
was withheld from showing him some favours by the opinions 
which Milton had too openly expressed on religious questions. 
Sir Henry Wotton's advice, though neglected, was now seen to 
be prudent and wise ; but we may conceive, that, in those times, 
it was difficult to withhold opinions on subjects so much agitated, 
affecting the temporal interests of some, and awakening the spir- 
itual alarm of others. The schism between the churches was 
comparatively fresh ; the Church of Rome reluctantly beheld a 
great and growing kingdom rescued from her avarice and 
power. ^^ In the freedom of opinion, and by the discussion of 
rights, she saw her safety endangered, or her splendour dimin- 
ished. She had fostered for her protection a body of men the 
most politic, and deep in worldly wisdom, whose existence de- 
pended oh her prosperity : we shall not therefore be surprised 
if a young and zealous Protestant, who could not well endure 
the ecclesiastical esta^blishment of his own country, simple and 
moderate as it was, should give offence when expressing his 
feelings in the inmost bosom of the Papal Church, in the verge 
of the Vatican, and under the very chair of St. Peter himself. 
He says, speaking of his conduct whilst in Italy ,^3 ' I laid it 
down as a rule for myself, never to begin a conversation on re- 
ligion in these parts, but if interrogated concerning my faith, 
whatever might be the consequence, to dissemble nothing. If 
any one attacked me, I defended in the most open manner, as 

82 < Dum Catbedram, venerande tnam, diademaque triplex 

Ridet Hyperborao gens barbara nata sub axe 

Diunque pharetrati aperaant toa Jura Britannl.' 

JOUndS^. QiisiU.JVlrv.«.M. 
n See Second Defence of Uie People, p. 384, ed. Burnet. 


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before, the orthodox faith for nearly two months more, in the 
city even of the sovereign Pontiff.' 

Milton staid about two months at Rome, and pursued his 
journey without molestation to Florence. He then visited Lucca, 
and spent a month at Venice. There he shipped for England 
the collection of books and music which he had formed, and 
travelled to Geneva, which, Johnson observes, he probably con- 
sidered as the metropolis of orthodoxy. 

At Geneva he became acquainted with John Deodati,^^ and 
Frederic Spanheim, the father of the eminently learned scholar 
and antiquary, whom Milton subsequently knew. He now 
passed through France, and returned home afler an absence of 
fifteen months. Of his habitual purity of morals, and sanctity 
of character, when abroad, he has himself informed us. ' Deum 
hie rursus testem in vocem, me his omnibus in locis ubi turn 
multa licent, ab omni flagitio ac Probro, integrum atque intac^ 
turn vixisse, illud perpetuo cogitantem, si hominum latere oculos 
possem, Dei certe non posse.' 

On his return he heard of the death of Charles Deodati,^^ and 
he has recorded the affection which he felt for his friend, in the 
Epithalamium Damonis. 

< Nee dum ■deret Thyraii, pastorem scilicet ilium 
Dolcia amor muse ThuscA retinebat in urbe 
Alt ubi mens ezpleta domnm, peconsque relied 
Cura vocat, aimul assueU seditque sub ulmo, 
Turn vero amissum, turn deniqne sentlt amicum.* 8S 

Some passages in this poem are borrowed fix>m the Aminta of 

M See some account of tbis Giov. Deodati, of his preaching at Venice in a trooper's 
dress, and converting a Venetian courtesan, in Walton's Milton, p. 546. He was uncle 
of * Charles,' mentioned below. 

8> C. Deodati was a native of En^and, but of an Italian (kmily, which came origi- 
nally flrom Lucca ; but in its last generation established at Geneva. His (hther, Theo- 
dore, came early in life to England, married a lady of fkmily and fortune, and practised 
as a ph}rsician. The qon was bred to the same profession, and settled in Cheshire. 
Bee some ftarther account in Todd's Milton, vol. vi. p. 173. 360. The two Greek letters 
of Deodati, possessed by Toland, are now In the Britiah Museum, (MS. Add. No. 5017. 
f. 71.) and win be found in the Appendix to this Memoir. 

» T. Bp. Dunonif , ver. IS. 


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Tasso ; a few more lines, alluding to his recent travels, I phall 

* Heu quis me ignotas traxit vagua error in ons, 
Ire per aertSaa rupea, alpemque nivosam ! 
Eequid erat tant) Romam vidiaaa aepultam ? 
(UuamvlB ilia foret, qaalem dam viaeret olim, 
TityruB ipie Buas, et oves et rura reliqult?) 
Ut te tam dulci powem caruiaae aodale, 
Poaaem tol maria alta, tot interponere montea, 
Tot sylvas, tot aaxa tlbi, fluvioaquo sonantes. 
Ah certe eztremum licuiaset tangere deztram, 
Et bene compoeitos pladde morientia ocelloa, 
Et dudaae " Tale, noetri memor, ibis ad aatia." 

O ego qnantvs enm, gelldi cum atratus ad Ami 
Murmura, popoleumque nejnua, qua mollior herba, 
Carpere none violaa, nunc summaa carpem myrtoa, 
Et potui LycidflB certantem audiie Menalcam !' 

In these verses^ he repeats his design of writing an epic poem 
on some part of the ancient British history. Dr. Johnson has 
observed that this ' poem is written with the common but childish 
imitation of pastoral life.' As it is not however intended deeply 
to move the sources of our sympathy, or to come across a strong 
and recent sorrow,^ but to express, as in Lycidas, in a pleasing 
and gentle manner, the poet's affection and regret ; the pastoral 
veil, in imitation of ancient poetry, and of later Italian models, 
is not inelegantly assumed. Besides, as Warton observes, * the 
common topics are recommended by a novelty of elegant ex- 
pression ; some passages wander far beyond the bounds of bu- 
colic song, and are in his own original style of the more sublime 
poetry.' He might speak of its purpose as he does in his Prolu- 
sions (p. 91) of the Province of History ; 'Nunc inquietos animi 
tumultus sedet et componit, nunc delibatum gaudio reddit, mox 
evocat lacrymas, sed mites eas, et pacatas, et quae mcestse nescio 
quid voluptatis secum afferat' 

Milton^s return to England took place about the time of 
Charles's second expedition against the Scots, in which his 

»7 See yer. 161—167. 

Therefoie fmtify as much aa you liat, and I'll jtap as macli aa I can.* Dtm QiazaCa, 
▼ol. iv. p. 312. (Shellon'a Tranil.) 


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forces were defeated by General Lesly, in the month of August, 
1639, and therefore not long before the meeting of the long 
parliament In a Bible, once in the possession of Mr. Blackburn, 
and which is supposed to have been the companion of Milton's 
travels, are some manuscript remarks, dated Canterbury, 1639, 
among which is a quotation from Maccabees 1, xiv. 15 : 'Now 
when it was heard at Rome, and as far as Sparta, that Jonathan 
was dead, they were very sorry.' 

Whan that day of death ahall oome, 
Then shall nightly ahadea prevaOe. 
Boon shall love and muaic faile j 
Soon the freah turfe'a tender blade 
Shall flooriah on my sleeping shade. 

Of the authenticity of these remarks, and of the book having 
been the property of Milton, reasonable doubts have been 
entertained ; but I consider it my duty not to pass over in 
silence a circumstance which has been recorded and credited by 
the most industrious and inquisitive among the biographers of 
the Poet.3» 

He now hired a lodging in St Bride's Churchyard, Fleet 
Street, at the house of one Russel, a tailor, and undertook the 
education of his two nephews, John and Edward Philips.^^ 
Finding his rooms inconvenient, and not large enough for his 
books, he soon removed into a handsome garden-house in Al- 
dersgate Street, free from the noise and disturbance of passen- 
gers,^^ and received some of his friends' sons to be instructed 

» See Todd*8 Life (first edit.) p. 39, Gent. Hag. July, Sept. Oct. 1793, Feb. 1790, 
Much, 1809, p. 199. 

M Their mother had maxrled again ; therefore Milton might feel it his duty to take 
these boys nnder his care. They lived with him about five or six years. Mr. Godwin 
ttainlcs John Philips's Scaironides (1664) was written In an excessive spirit of spite 
and malignity against Milton, v. Life of Philips, p. 148. As long as he lived he never 
relaxed In his unnatural animosl^ against his uncle, p. 157. Mr. Godwin calls him a 
duuneleM unfeeling bufiToon, p. 161. Milton made his nephews songsters, and sing 
ftom the time they were with him. ▼. Aubrey, Let. 3. 446. 

41 Philips tays, * He made no long stay in liis lodgings in St. Bride's Churehjrard, 
naeaashy of having a place to dispose his books in, and other goods fit for the ftirnlahlng 
of a good handsome house, hastening him to take one; and accordingly a pretty garden- 
I he took In Aldonfite St. at the end of an entry, and therefora the fitter for his 


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and educated by him. His father waB still living ; the allowance 
which he received was small, and he supplied its deficiences by 
a respectable employment. The expense of his travels, to which 
he has alluded in one of his tracts, probably rendered it neces- 
sary for him to abstain from pressing more deeply on the limited 
resources of his father. ' My life,' he says, ' has not been 
unexpensive, in learning and voyaging about.' The Aubrey 
Letters mention that Milton went to the university at his own 
charges only, but in his Latin' Epistle to his father, ver. 77, he 

7\upatar eptims nanptu 
Cam mihl Somolea pfttuit facundia lingua . 
Et Ladi yvnerea, et qu* Jovia on dacetMmt, 
GiaadiA magaUoqulB elate Focabitla Gndia 
Mdan nuuisti fuasjaOat OaUiaftores. 

« « * * 4^ 

Per te acmm Ucet, per te, ai noaae liceUt, Slc, 

The system of education which he ^idopted was deep and 
comprehensive : it promised to teach science with language ; or 
rather to make the study of languages subservient to the acquisi- 
tion of scientific knowledge. Dr. Johnson has severely censured 
this method of instruction, but with arguments that might not 
unsuccessfully be met. The plan recommended by the author- 
ity of Milton seems to be chiefly liable to objection, from being 
too extensive ; and while it makes authors of all ages contribute 
to the developement of science, it of course must reject that 
careful selection, which can alone secure the cultivation of the 
taste. We may also reply to Johnson, that, although all men 
are not designed to be astronomers, or geometricians, a knowl- 
edge of the principles on which the sciences are built, and the 
reasonings by which they are conducted, not only forms the 
most exact discipline which the mind can undergo, giving to it 
comprehension and vigour, but is the only solid basis on which 
an investigation of the laws of nature can be conducted, or those 
arts improved that tend to the advantage of society, and the 
happiness of mankind. Johnson says, we are not placed here 

turn, by the reaaon of the privacy, bealdaa that tktre vert f^ atrMtt in London moreft^ 
fi^m noif than Cto.> ▼. p. Itt. Al. aill, Ua old tutor, bong driven ftom St. FUiPa, aet 
vpftpriTUeichoolinUieauneatieet IToa^a wle*. Qe. ii. e. 99. 


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to watch the planets, or the motion of the stars, but to do good. 
But good is done in various ways, according to opportunities 
offered and abilities conferred : a man whose natural disposition, 
or the circumstances of whose education lead to pursue astronom- 
ical discoveries, or the sublime speculations of geometry, is em- 
phatically doing good to others, as he is extending the bounda- 
ries of knowledge, and to himself, as he is directing the energies 
of his mind to subjects of the most exalted contemplation. 

But if the word ' good' is restricted to the performance of 
charitable actions, or the fulfilment of moral duties, we may ask, 
what opposition is there between the practice of virtue and the 
pursuit of science? Every man is bound by the laws of God, 
and the design of his creation, to do good ; for this purpose was 
he placed here ; but are men of science therefore unfitted for 
the performance of their civil and religious duties ? Are they, on 
account of their enlargement of mind or their sublime specula- 
tions, less virtuous, less self-denying, or less benevolent than 
others? Is not their occupation itself almost a school of virtue ? 
Lessons of civil wisdom and maxims of prudential conduct will 
be learnt by all ; and is not a man eminently doing good, who is 
subduing the wild powers of nature under the dominion of skilly 
diminishing the extent of human suffering, or dissipating igno- 
rance ; like Franklin disarming the lightning of its fires, or like 
Watt binding an element of tremendous power into a safe and 
commodious form ; whose future effects on the social system of 
the world, even the eye of ' trembling Hope' dares not follow ? 
The philosopher whose discoveries in science can facilitate the 
communication between distant nations, and carry the arts of 
civilized life into the bosom of the desert, may well be called 
the benefactor of mankind ; and what fatal delusions may have 
been expelled by him, who could first calculate with precision 
the regularity of the comet's return ? The most abstract and 
exalted departments of science* are the foundation of those inven- 
tions, that are of practical benefit and vulgar use.'*^ 

«i JohoiOD*! Lift of MUton It wiitton wiUi tail omul vlflour of Uioaglit and dear. 
na« of ezpra«lon ; it alNmads wlUi nuj Jiut and atiikliig otaenrationa $ bat U la 


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To a knowledge of the Greek and Latin writers, Milton added 
a cultivation of the eastern languaj^es, the Chaldee, Syriack, 
and Hebrew : he made his pupils '' go through the Pentateuch 
and gain an entrance into the Targum :" ' Nor were the best 
Italian and French authors forgotten. One part of his method, 
says Johnson, deserves general imitation ; he was careful to in- 
struct his scholars -in religion. Every Sunday was spent upon 
theology, of which he dictated a short scheme gathered from 
the writers that were then fashionable in the Dutch universities.' 
Pearce has observed, that Fagius was Milton's favourite annota- 
tor on the Bible. 

Once in three or four weeks he relaxed from his spare diet 
and hard study, and passed a day of indulgence with some 
young sparks of his acquaintance, the chief of whom, his nephew 
says, * were Mr. Alphry and Mr. MUler, the beaux of those 
times, but nothing near so bad as those now*ardays ; with these 
gentlemen he made so far bold with his body, as now and then 
to keep a gaudy day.' 

I am now to pass to that period of Milton's life, in which he 
first engaged in the controversies of the times ; and published a 
Treatise on Reformation, in 1641, in two books, against the 
bishops^^ and Established Church ; ' being willing (he says) to 
help the Puritans, who were inferior to the prelates in learning ;' 
in this, his earliest publication in prose, he throws out a hint of 
something like his great poem, that might hereafter be expected 
from him. ' Then amidst the hymns and hallelujahs of saints. 

deeplf coloiued with jirejadiee, and Uia mwnUiff Is lometiniM sophtodeal and Ineor- 
rect. I am sappotted in Uiia opinion by Mr. Hawkins ; sse Prof, to Newton's Milton, 
p. 95. ed. 1894. I do not approve of tbe spirit or manner of Archd. Bladcbome's ob- 

43 Dr. Synunons considers Milton as the leader of tbe attack afnlnst the prelates ; his 
tutor Younc Iiad been one of the victims of the primate's intolerance ; and Milton 
entered in his career, with the blended feeling of private and pabllc wrong, v. Life, p. 
SSae. The fhct was, the Puritans were totally unable to copipete with such men as 
Usher, Hail, BramhaU, and others of the established religion intheiological learning and 
knowledge of Ecclesiastical history, as may be seen by reading the controversy j and 
they were glad even of Milton's eloquence ; for that was all he brought them, and all 
the young scholar could be expected to bring. * Nee adhuo motuius Achilles ' 
VOL. I. F 


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same one may perhaps be heard offering at high strains, in new 
and lofly measures to sing, and celebrate thy divine mercies, 
and marvellous judgments in this land throughout all ages.' 

In 1641, Hall, Bishop of Norwich, a learned, witty, and elo- 
quent writer, at the request of Laud, published * An Humble Re- 
monstrance in favour of Episcopacy.' Five ministers, under the 
title of Smectymnus^^ (a word formed from the first letters of 
their names), wrote an answer, of which the learned and vene- 
rable Archbishop Usher ^^ published a confutation, called ' The 
Apostolical Institution of Episcopacy :' to this confutation Mil- 
ton replied in his Treatise of Prelatical Episcopacy. The point 
at issue was the divine or human origin of Epbcopacy, as a pe- 
culiar order in the church, invested with spiritual rights and pow- 
ers, distinct in kind, and preeminent in degree. He added to this 
reply another performance, called ' The Reason of Church Gov- 
ernment* urged against Prelacy.' Bishop Hall published a de- 
fence of the Humble Remonstrance, well written and closely 
argued; and Milton wrote animadversions upon it. These 
treatises were published in the year 164 l.t It was in his Rear 
son of Church Government that he discovered, as Johnson ob- 
serves, his high opinion of his own powers, and promised to 
undertake something that may be of service and honour to his 
country. This (he said) was not to be obtained but by devout 
prayer to the Eternal Spirit, that can enrich with all utterance 
and knowledge, and send out his Seraphim with the hallowed 
fire of his altar, to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases. 
To this must be added select reading, steady observation, and 
insight into all seemly and generous arts and affairs ; till which 

M Stephen Manhall, Edward Calamy, Thomas Young, Matthew Neweomen, and 
William Bpuratow j the < W in whose name muat be pronoaneed * U/ to form the 

4S Uaher, Qataker, and Reynolds, were the three Protestant divines in England, who 
bad the sreateet reputation on the continent for their learning ; see Calomies' M61. 
durieux. p. 834. Their three rivals abroad, among the Protestants, for erudition, were 
Biondel, Petitas, and Boehart. 

• Bee SynOnona's Life, p. 5234. 

t Bee Han>i Works, ed. Pratt, vol. iz. p. 64J. 


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in some loeasnre be compassed, J refuse not to sustain this 
expectation. * From a promise like this (says his biographer) at 
once fernd, pious, and rational, might be expected the Paradise 

In 1642 he closed the controversy which I have mentioned, 
by an apology for Smectymnus, in answer to the confutation of 
his animadversions, written, as he supposed, by Bishop Hall or 
his son. His friendship for Toung* probably led him into the 
field of controversy ; for he owns that he * was not disposed to 
this manner of writing, wherein knowing myself inferior to my- 
self, led by the genial power of nature to another task, I have 
the use, as I may account it, but of my leh hand.' * Weapons 
(says one of his biographers) more effectual than pens were now 
drawn against the church ; and exposed by the injudicious con- 
dtict of some of its prelates, it fell under the assault. If argu- 
ment and reason could have prevailed, the result would have 
been different. The learning of Usher, and the wit of Hall, 
certainly preponderated in the contest, and they seem to have 
been felt not only by the Smectymnan divines, but by Milton 
himself. If the church at this crisis could have been upheld by 
the ability of her sons, it would have been supported by those 
admirable prelates ; but numbers, exasperation and enthusiasm 
were against them.''*^ 

The main purpose which Milton had in view in these differ- 
ent publications, was to alter the Episcopal form of the church, 
and to assimilate it to the simpler, and, as he deemed, the apos- 
tolical model of the reformed churches in other countries ; to 
join with them in exactness of discipline, as we do in purity of 
doctrine. But as, in these churches, the Presbyterian discipline 
was united to a republican form of government, he therefore at- 
tempts to prove that the existence of the hierarchy adds nothing 
to the security or the proper splendour of the throne ; that the 

* Totand say* of his < Beaaon for Church Government^* < the eloquence ii masculine, 
fhe method ia natural, the sentiments are free, and the whole (God knows) appears to 
have very difTerent force ftom what the nonconformist divines wrote in those days, or 
■iaee that time, on the same subject.* v. Life, p. 31. 

« See 8ymmon8*B LUb of Milton, p. SMO. 


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fall of Prelacy coald not shake the least fringe that borders the 
royal canopy. He denies the apostolical institution of bishops, 
and, as he argues for the greatest degree of honest liberty in 
religion, as in other institutions, he urges that Prelacy is the 
natural agent and minister of tyranny. He advocates the 
sweetest and mildest manner of paternal discipline, the inde- 
pendent ministry of each congregation ; and he wishes the An- 
gel of the Gospel to ride on his way, doing his proper business, 
conquering the high thoughts and proud reasonings of the flesh. 
' As long as the church (he says), in true imitation of Christ, can 
be content to ride upon an ass, carrying herself and her govern- 
ment along in a mean and simple guise, she may be, as she is, 
a lion of the tribe of Judah, and in her humility all men will, 
with loud hosannahs, confess her greatness.' When his oppo- 
nents urged the learning of the University and the clergy, he 
said, ' that God will not suffer true learning to be Wanting, when 
true grace and obedience to him abounds ; for if he give us to 
know him bright, and to practise this our knowledge in right 
established discipline, how much more will he replenish us with 
all abilities in tongues and arts, that may conduce to his glory 
and our good. He can stir up rich fathers to bestow exquisite 
education on their children, and to dedicate them to the service 
of the Gospel. He can make the sons of nobles his ministers, 
and princes to be his Nazarites.' 

That Milton engaged in the heat and dust of these great 
controversial questions, from motives of conscience, and with 
intentions upright and pure, no one can reasonably doubt ; but 
they were alien from his elegant and learned pursuits; they 
were scarcely congenial to his age ; and himself, as well as his 
brethren whom he defended, were infinitely inferior to Bishop 
Hall in theological learning and in controversial skill; that 
learned prelate's victory over Smectymnus was complete. 

Milton's father^^ came now to reside in his son's house. 
Philips says of him ; * the old gentleman lived wholly retired to 

«" Till tiie taking of Beading, in AprU, 1643, by the Eari of Enex, he had U^ed there, 
In Um kNwe of hia ion Chitet(9her. 


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hia rest and derotion, without the least trouble imaginable.' At 
Whitsuntide, in 1643, in his thirty-fifth year, Milton married 
Mary, the daughter of Mr. Powell, a justice of the peace in Oxford- 
shire. After an absence of little more than a month, he brought 
his bride to town with him, and hoped, as Johnson observes, to 
enjoy the advantages of a conjugal life ;^^ but spare diet, and 
hard study, and a house full of pupils, did not suit the young 
and gay daughter of a Cavalier. She had been brought up in 
very different society ; so, having lived for a month a philosophic 
life, after having been used at home to a great house,^^ and 
much company and joviality, her ft'iends, possibly by her own 
desiroi made earnest suit to have her company the remaining 
part of the summer, which was granted upon a promise of her 
return at Michaelmas. When Michaelmas came, the lady had 
no inclination to quit the hospitality and delights of her father's 
mansion for the austerer habits and seclusion of the Poet's study. 
Aubrey says, * no company came to her, and she often heard 
her nephew cry and be beaten.' Milton sent repeated letters to 
her, which were all unanswered; and a messenger, who was 
despatched to urge- her return, was dismissed with contempt. 
A resistance so pertinacious and illegal as this, must have rest- 
ed on some grounds that were at least imagined favourable to the 
conduct of the wife. We must, therefore, refer to the unsettled 
situation of the kingdom, by which the authority of the laws 
was weakened, and obedience imperfectly enforced; and we 
must recollect, that at the time when she refused to return to 
her husband's roof, the king, with all his forces, was quartered 
in the neighbouring city of Oxford ; that her family was of 

4B Toland gives four coi^eeturei on this subject. 1. Whether it was that this yoong 
woman, accustomed to a large and jovial family, could not live in a philosophical 
retirement ; 3. ^ that she was not satisfied with the person of her husband ; 3. or, 
lastly, that because all her relations were addicted to the royal interest, his democratical 
principles were disagreeable to her humour ; 4. nor is it impossible that the father 
repented of this match, upon the prospect of some success on the king's side, who Uien 
bad his bead quarters at Oxford. See Life, p. 53. 

M T. Wszton hod a MS. inventory of Mr. PowelPs goods; and he says, <by the 
immber, order, and fUmituxe of the rooms, he appears to have lived as a country gea- 
ttoman, in a very extensive and liberal style of house keeping.' v. 7Wd>« I4f^ p. 176. 


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coarse surrounded with the gaj and licentious adherents of the 
monarch, the carousing Cavaliers ; that ' living in the camp of 
the enemy/ she must have been in the daily habit of hearing 
hatred, scorn, and contempt, uttered against the party whose 
sentiments were so strongly adopted by her husband ; that a 
prospect of success now dawned upon the fortunes of the king ; 
and, looking at the apparent interests of the family, considering 
her wavering or alienated affections, and interpreting fairly the 
language of Philips, we may presume that had the side of the 
royalists been victorious, the marriage with the Puritan husband 
would have been cancelled or concealed. 

Milton, whose mind was never given to half-measures, resolved 
immediately to repudiate her on the ground of disobedience ; and 
to support the propriety and lawfulness of his conduct, he pub- 
lished, in 1644, ' The doctrine and discipline of divorce, the 
judgment of Master Bucer concerning Divorce :' the next year 
he printed his Tetrachordon, or expositions on the four chief 
places of scripture which treat on marriage. His last tract 
* Colasterion' was an answer to a pamphlet recommended by 
Mr. Joseph Caryll,^® the author of a commentary on Job, and 
a Presbyterian divine : the author was anonymous ; but Milton 
calls him * a serving-man both by nature and function, an idiot 
by breeding, and a solicitor by presumption.' 

In this treatise Dr. Symmons thinks that Milton has made 
out a strong case, and fights with arguments not easily to be 
repelled; and Mr. Godwin says, 'that the books on divorce 
are written with the most entire knowledge of the subject, and 
with a clearness and strength of argument that it would be diffi- 
cult to excel ;' and it must be remembered that Selden wrote 
his * Uxor Hebraica,' on the same side of the question. With- 
out entering into the intricacies of so great an argument, I shall 
content myself with saying, that all the ingenuity of Milton, and 
the learning of Selden, are of no avail against the acknowledged 

BO Of Mr. Carjll, Toland says, (p» 60), < in his Toluminous and senselass oommeiitar- 
Hm, ha did more li^iuy to Uie memoiy of Job, than the devil and the Sabeans eoold 
inflict tonnents on him in his life time. 


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experience of society, which seems to have silently consented 
to the wisdom of the established law. Tempers once deemed 
incompatible, may gradually assimilate. The interests of chil- 
dren, the advancement of fortune, the respect of society, moral 
principle, religious feeling, the force of habit, are all assisting 
the reconciliation of wedded discontent. Incompatibility of 
temper cannot be submitted to legal proof, or determined by 
any unerring standard. Will it not therefore be oflen advanced 
to cover the wishes of inconstancy, or the desires of impurity ? 
Does not legal separation allow all that is necessary in extreme 
cases of insufferable evil? Is an incompatible temper to be ad- 
vanced as the cause of one divorce, or may it release from a 
succession of imprudent engagements ? Milton's courtship was 
apparently sudden and short; and no one can be much su> 
prised at the disagreements that followed : but it appears that 
he subsequently lived in happiness with his wife, and with re- 
newed affection. Hence the divorce, at one time so much 
desired, would probably have destroyed, if granted, the future 
happiness of both parties. 

There is one passage in this treatise, in which Milton clearly 
points to himself, and to the presumed causes of his unhappiness. 
' The soberest and best governed men, he says, are least prac- 
tised in these affairs ; and who knows not that the bashful mute- 
ness of a virgin may oftentimes hide aU the unlivelines^ and 
natural sloth which is really unfit for conversation ? Nor is there 
that freedom of access granted or presumed, as may suffice to 
a perfect discerning tiU too late ; and when any indisposition is 
suspected, what more usual than the persuasion of friends, that 
acquaintance, as it increases, will amend all 7 And lastly, is it 
not strange that many who have spent their youth chastely, are 
in some things not so quick sighted, while titey haste too eagerly 
to light the nuptial torch ? Nor is it therefore for a modest error, 
that a man should forfeit so great a happiness, and no charitable 
means to relieve him. Since they who have lived most loosely, 
by reason of their bold accustoming, prove most successful in 
their matches, because their wild affections, unsettling at will, 


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have been as so many divorces to teach them experience. 
Whereas the sober man, honouring the appearance of modesty, 
and hoping well of every social virtue under that veil, may easily 
chance to meet if not with a body impenetrable ^ yet often with a 
mind to aU other due conversation inaccessible^ and to aU the more 
estimable and superior purposes of matrimony useless, and almost 
lifeless ; and what a solace, what a fit help such a consort would 
be through the whole life of a man, is less pain to conjecture, 
than to have experience.' He speaks again 'of a mute and 
spiritless mate ;* and again, ' if he shall find himself bound fast 
to an image of earth and phlegm, with whom he looked to be the 
copartner of a sweet and gladsome society ;* these observations 
will, I think, put us in possession of his wife's * fair defects,' 
and the causes of the separation. 

Whoever differs from Milton in the inferences which he draws, 
and the doctrine which he advocates, must yet allow that these 
Treatises on Divorce are written with the command of scrip- 
tural learning, with many ingenious explanations of the intent 
of the divine laws, and human institutions ; and with a force 
of argument sometimes difBcult to resist. The whole is com- 
posed with uncommon zeal and earnestness, and conveys the 
sentiments of one who feels his own important interests are at 
issue ; the causes of dislike in this little month of wedlock, 
must have struck deep root, for he alludes much to rash, sudden, 
and mistaken choices ; he urges the justice of divorce in cases 
where ' a violent hatred in matrimony has arisen, yet not sinful, 
irksome, grievous, obstinately hateful, and injurious even to hos- 
tility;* he speaks of invincible antipathies, when the work of 
sorrow lasts, till death unharness them ; and upon the ground, 
that such matches in this misery are insufferable, unalterable, 
and without hope, or prospect of termination, he claims the 
power of release from his unequal yoke. That his whole argu- 
ment hinges on his own case, no one who reads these tracts 
can reasonably doubt : and that his sorrows were seen through 
an exaggerating medium, seems hardly less clear. His own 
experience is the best refutation of his work ; his marriage, 


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though clouded over in its rise, and portending storms, and sor- 
rows, and strife, ended, as we believe, in the smiles of renewed 
affection, in conjugal endearments, and continued love : and 
we must also recollect that Milton had lived but one short month 
with his wife, when this eternal ixoersion, this perpetuity of 
hatred, this radical discord of nature, were declared.^^ 

That this doctrine was received with neglect or ridicule, is 
evident from a passage in Howell's Letters. There are, how- 
ever, in all societies some to whom every paradox is acceptable, 
and who rejoice in believing themselves superior to the settled 
opinions of mankind. By them it was greedily adopted, and 
they were named divorcers or Miltonists.^^ The Presbyterian 
cleTgy, then holding their assembly in Westminster, were much 
offended, and procured the author to be summoned before the 
house of lords ; * but the house,' says Wood, * whether approving 
the doctrine, or not favouring his accusers, did soon dismiss him.' 
The lords probably considered the doctrines advanced as too 
wild and speculative to produce any practical mischief. Milton 
wished he had not written the work in English. ' Vellem hoc 
tantem sermone vernaculo me non scripsisse, non enim in vemas 
lectores incidissem, quibus solemne est sua bona ignorare^ 
aliorum mala irridere :' on this confession it is plain that the 
work was viewed as an apdogy and defence of himself. 

The golden reins of discipline and government in the church 
being now let loose, Milton proceeded to put in practice the 

SI See p. Knight's Civil Society, p. 55. * Let me not be supposed to mean a coo- 
derenation of marriage, Aom wliich I liave derived all the bleasingi and beueflta of 
civil society, but merely of its indissolabilJty. There are many caases which ought to 
Justify divorce, as well as that of adultery on the part of the woman ; and I think it 
probable, that If other caases were admitted, this would be le« frequent. Divorce is, 
I believe, as often the object, as the consequence of adultery.' 

S A passage in the Electra of Sophocles, by C. W. at the Hague, 1649, 8vo. proves 
that Milton's doctrine on divorce was not unnoticed. ' 
* While like the fioward MiUnuat 
We our nuptial knot untwist.' 
See aim a passage in Echard, quoted by Todd, p 56, and in Britain's Triumph, p. 15, 
by 6. S. What, Milton, are you come to see the sight? v. Todd's Life, p. 54. And see 
also his eleventh and twelfth Sonnets, in themselvea a sufficient proof of the detmcticm 
and ridicule attending his doctrine. 
VOL. I. G 


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doctrine which he had advocated, and seriousl]^ paid his ad- 
dresses to a very accomplished and beautiful young lady, the 
daughter of Doctor Davis ;^ the lady, however, hesitated, and 
was not easily to be persuaded into the lawfulness of the pro- 
posal ; and it fortunately terminated by effecting a happy recon- 
ciliation with the offending and discarded wife. 

He went sometimes to visit a relation who lived in the lane 
of St. Martin's-le-grand, and at one of these visits he was sur- 
prised to see his wife come from an inner room, throw herself 
on her knees before him, and implore forgiveness. It is said 
that he was for some time inexorable; but partly, says his 
nephew, ' his own generous nature, more inclinable to recon- 
ciliation than to perseverance in anger or revenge, and partly 
the strong intercession of friends on both sides, soon brought 
him to an act of oblivion, and a firm league of peace.' It was 
the forgiveness of a good and generous mind, for he behaved 
ever after to her with affection, and received all her family into 
his house,^^ when their seat was seized by the rebels, and they 
were obliged, at a ruinous expense, to compound for their 
estate.^ Mr. Powell is said to have lost by the wars above three 
thousand pounds, and to have died above fifleen hundred pounds 
in debt, leaving a widow and nine children. The dowry of a 
thousand pounds promised to Milton with his wife remained 
unpaid at his death. ' On Mrs. Anne Powell's petition^ to the 

S3 During the desertion of his wife, Milton frequented the society of the Lady Msr- 
fsiret Leigh, a person of distinction and accomplishment. To Lady Ranelagh, the 
fiiToarlte sister of the Illustrious Boyle, In his later years he was grateftilly attached. He 
■ays of her to her son, who had been his pupil, * Nam et mlhl omnium necessltudinom 
loco fhit.* 

9i The fhmlly of the Powells continued to reside In Milton's house till after the death 
of his fkther in 1647. See Todd's Life, p. 88. 

H See the transcript of the original documents of Mr. Powell's compounding tai 
Todd's Life, (second ed.) p. 69, 70 ; and Milton's Petition, p. 81. 

M This passage may throw some additional light on the subject of the desertion of 
Milton by his wife. Aubrey sa]rs, she was a zealous royalist, and went without her 
husband's consent to her mother in the king's quarters. (Letter iil. p. 441.) The truth 
then, as Our as we can command it, se'tms to be, that she found her bridal home cheerless 
and dull } her husband's temper unsuitable to hers, and his opinions different ; that 
disagreements arose and discontent on either side ; and when the king and his army 
and court arrived in the neighbourhood of her ikther's house, she gladly availed herself 


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commissioners for her thirds, the following obserrations were 
made. ' Mr. Milton is a harsh and choleric man, and married 
Mr. Powell's daughter, who would be undone if any such course 
were taken against him by Mrs. Powell ; he having turned 
away his wife heretofore for a long space, upon some other oc- 
casion (var. a small occasion).' ^^ Milton, it appears, having 
discharged the fine upon Mr. Powell's estate, had succeeded to 
the possession of it ; and his mother-in-law, by petition, was 
anxious to recover her thirds, which she was afraid to press for 
by suit. 

In 1644, at the request of Hartlib, he published his ' Tractate 
on Education,' and his ' Areopagitica, or Speech for the Liberty 
of unlicensed printing.'^ The plan developed in the former 
tract must, I am afraid, be considered as little less than a 
splendid dream ; a noble outline of a theory too magnificent to 
be realized. What is promised in the time allowed, could not 
possibly be performed. While Milton is projecting the mastery 
of every science, the attainment of so many languages, ac- 
quaintance with such various authors ; is moving over the ex- 
tensive circle of his studies, and piling up his structure of edu- 
cation even to its turrets and pinnacles ; the humbler plan which 
experience has approved, is content with laying deep its foun- 
dations during the years of youth, in acquiring habits of accurate 
reasoning, in cultivating correct taste, and in learning those 
sound principles of philosophy which may hereafter be developed 
and directed into various channels. What Milton professes to 

of tbe opportnnltj of Joining Uiem, with her ftmU7. Their rapport lecured her afainst 
the power of enforcing her return ; and had tlie king's party l)een victoriouii the prob- 
ably would never have returned, nor aclinowledged her marriage. The battle of Naaeby , 
and the beauty of KIm Daria, brought her to her sensee. One of Milton's antagonisU 
(O. S. 1660) accuses him ; < Ton throw aside your wife, because your wsqvuA wpirit could 
not agree with her qnalities, and your erooktd phtntasff could not be brought to take 
delight in her.' 

sr See Todd's Life, p. 90 (second ed.). 

n Seztns tbe Fourth, who died in 1484, was'the first who placed the press under the 
control of a Ucenser. In 1649 Gilbert Mabbet resigned the offlce of licenser, and urged 
the resaoning of HUton's work as his defence. See Jiirch's Lifs, p. zxtI. and HolUs's 
Memoirs, p. 357, who calls him 8. Mabbot, or rather Mabbold, for so be is called in 
Whiteloek's Index. 


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complete in a few years, the old system is contented to com- 
mence ; one is only planting the tree and fertilizing the soil, 
the other is already reposing mider its shade, and feeding on its 

The Areopagitica is, on the whole, the finest production in 
prose from Milton's pen. For vigour and eloquence of style, 
unconquerable force of argument, majesty, and richness of lan- 
guage, it is not to be surpassed. Doctor Johnson considers the 
argument which it discusses to be of very difficult solution. I 
shall content myself with observing, that when a nation becomes 
sufficiently enlightened to demand the removal of these restrictions 
of the press, which have been imposed when governments were 
arbitrary, and the people ignorant, the correction of the evils 
attendant on its liberty must be found, not in the punishment 
of the offenders, but in the good sense and moral feeling of the 
community. It is in this way that virtue is stronger than vice, 
that truth triumphs over falsehood, and law is superior to offence. 
Johnson's observation that ' if every sceptic in theology may 
teach his follies, there can be no religion,'^^ falls to the ground, 
when it is remembered that our religion was born amid disbelief 
and doubt, and has grown up and increased among every variety 
of heresy and form of scepticism that the ingenuity of man 
could devise. Hume's famous argument that was to be the 
touchstone of truth, has only served to establish the force of 
testimony, and to confirm the credibility of miracles. 

In 1645 Milton collected his early poems, Latin and English, 
for the press; in which the AUegro^^ and Penseroso appeared 

n The moderation ;>nd Justice of Toland*t sentiments on this subject may excite 
sarprise (▼. p. 79.)> * The wishes of all good men are, that the national church, being 
secured in her woisltlp and emoluments, may not be allowed to force others to her 
communion ; and that all dissenters (Vom it, being secured in their liberty of conscience, 
may not be permitted to meddle with the riches or power of the national church.' May 
a sentiment so philosophically Just prove historically true ! 

M Mr. Peck's manner of giving the Uties of these poems is ludicrously quainL He 
calls them * His Homo L' Allegro, or the Isstans ; and his Homo II PenseroM), or the cogi- 
tans.' V. New Memoirs, p. 516. Comus had been printed in 1637, and Lycldas in 1638. 
Before Cartwri^t's Poems, 1651, la a copy of verses by J. Leigh, enumerating the 
various poets whose worths had been pobtished by JVoseby, but omitting the name of 


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for the first time. Of the picturesque imagery, the musicftl 
Tersification, and the brilliant language of these poems, praise 
too high camnot be heard. They have all the pastoral beauties 
and sweet descriptions of our elder poets, embellished, and 
heightened by a richer style, and a more refined combination. 
It has been more than once observed, that these poems, short 
as they are, have collected in one splendid view all that can be 
said on their -respective subjects. 

Moseley the publisher says in his preface^ ' that the poems of 
Spenser, in these English ones, are as rarely imitated as sweetly 
excelled.' It is to this edition that the portrait by Marshall is 
prefixed, which so much displeased Milton; and which has 
transformed the youthful bard into a puritanical gentleman of 
fifty ; it is the first published portrait of the Poet.* 

In 1647, as the relations of his wife had gradually left him, he 
removed into a smaller house in Holbom, which opened back- 
ward into Lincoln's Inn Fields, and continued the instruction 
of a few scholars, chiefly the sons of gentlemen his friends. 
That there ever was a design of making him an adjutant gene- 
ral in the army of Sir William Waller may be doubted ; for 
Philips has expressed his belief doubtfully, and Waller was 
considered at that time the leader of the Presbyterians, between 
whom and our Poet no amity could now exist. 

Hb next publication, in 1648-9, was the Tenour of Kings and 
Magistrates.^^ This was occasioned by the outcry of the Pre^ 
byterians against the death of Charles ; whereas Milton proves 
that they who so much condemned deposing, were the men 
themselves that deposed the king ; and cannot, with all their 
shifting and relapsing, wash the guiltiness off their own hands. 
]^or they themselves, by their late doings, have made it guilti- 
ness, and turned their own warrantable iM^tions into rebellion. 

I considered tfali print ae preientliig not an nnfliyanrable portnit of Milton. 
Tke putonl view in the beck groond la worthy of Oetade ; but < neat handed Phyllia' 
is, methinka, a UtUe too ftee. She ahould have reeoUected that in a dance * Janctaqae 
aympliii Ormtia deeentea.* 
« Thia tract flrat publiahed Febniaiy 164S4), repubUahed wlUi additiooa in 1650. 


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He then pushes on his arguments against them tiU he shows 
that they not only deposed, but how much they did toward the 
killing the king. 'Have they not levied wars against him, 
whether offensire or defensive (for defence in war equally 
offends, and most prudently beforehand), and given commission 
to slay when they knew his person could not be exempt from 
danger? And if chance or flight had not saved him, how often 
had they killed him, directing their artillery without blame or 
prohibition to the very place where they saw him stand ! Have 
they not sequestered him, judged or unjadged, and converted 
his revenue to other uses, detaining from him, as a grand delin- 
quent, all means of livelihood, so that from them long since he 
might have perished or starved ? — Have they not hunted or pur- 
sued him round the kingdom with sword and fire. Have they 
not besieged him, and to their power forbad him water and fire, 
save what they shot against him to the hazard of his life ? Tet 
while they thus assaulted and endangered it with hostile deeds, 
they swore in words to defend it, with his crown and dig- 
nity,' 6lc, 

But though Milton in his writings discussed these measures, 
which he considered important to the public welfare, his life 
was strictly private, passed with his scholars, or among his 
studies ; and his History of England was just commenced ; 
when, without any solicitation, he was invited^^' by the council 
of the state to be their secretary for foreign tongues. They had 
resolved to employ the Latin language in their correspondence 
with other nations ; and no man more eminently skilled in the 
knowledge of it, than Milton, could at that time probably have 
been found. 

Bishop Newton wishes this examine had been followed ; but 
I must express my doubts whether diplomatic correspondence 
could be carried on through the medium of the Latin tongue, 

tt See the original orders of council appointing a committee to Inyite him to accept 
the office, flrtt printed In Todd*g Life (Mcond ed.) p. 107. He eucceeded In thia office 
Mr. Weckherieyn, whoee only daughtei waa mother of Sir W. Tnimball, the firiend of 


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with the facility or the precision that would be now required. 
It surely is better that every nation should express itself in its 
own idioms, than to attempt to make an ancient language con- 
vey new varieties of opinion, and new modifications of thought. 
Modern languages are constantly borrowing from each other to 
supply those minute shades of meaning, and to express those 
refined and subtle ideas, that have arisen in the progress of 
knowledge, and that have been brought from more advanced 
habits, and more complicated structures of society. To effect 
this with a language that has long been removed from use, is 
surely to encumber oneself with unnecessary difficulties, and to 
prefer the less commodious vehicle of reasoning. 

In 1649-50, it -was ordered by the council, that Mr. Milton 
do prepare something in answer to the book of S^masius, and 
when he hath done it bring it to ^e council* Previously, how- 
ever, to this, he had written hi» answer^ to the Icon Basilike, 
it is supposed by a verbal command ; for no written order of the 
council to that eflfect has been found. The grievous charge of 
having, in conjunction with Bradshaw, interpolated the book of 
the king, with a prayer t^en from Sidney's Arcadia, and then 
imputing the use of the prayer to the monarch, as a heavy crime, 
has been clearly and completely refuted. 

It appears that the private prayers of the king were delivered 
by him to Dr. Juxon, Bishop of London, immediately before his 
death, and on the scaffold ; that they, were added to some of the 
earlier impressions of the Icon ; that the prayer was adopted 
by the king from the Arcadia, a book that he delighted to read f^ 
and that Juxon would not have been silent, had the prayer been 

a ICilton'a Anawer was priatod In London In 1640, 4to. ; Bfiain In 1690. Of the Icon 
Bamlike, forty-aeven edition* were clrcuiatad in England alone, and 48,900 coplea aoM. 
Tolnnd aaya, Milton waa rewarded hy the parliament for hia performance with the preaent 
of a thooaand poirada. ▼. Life, p. 39. Tlie real Act ia not ascertained. 

M The booka which Charlea delighted to read, and which ahow hia knowledge and 
taate, an given in Sir Thomaa Herbert's Memoini, p. 61, tIx. AndrBwa*8 Sermona, 
Hooker'a Eccl. Politjr, IIamniond*a Worka, Sandya'a Paalma, Herbert*a Poema, Fairfax*ii 
Taaao, Harrington*a Arioeto, Spenaer'a Fairy aneen, &e. The prayer fttim the Arcadia 
li a mere tranaeript, with the neeeaaaiy alteration of a fow wofda. 


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inserted by the enemies of his lamented monarch, to calumniate 
his memory. 

We must now pass on to the celebrated controversy with Sal- 
maaius. Charles the Second employed that great scholar to 
write a Defence of his Monarchy, and to vindicate hb father's 
memory; to stimulate his industry; it is said,^^ a hundred 
Jacobuses were given to him. Since the death of the illustrious 
younger Scaliger, no scholar had acquired the reputation of 
Salmasius; not so much, as Johnson supposed, for his skill in 
emendatory criticism, in which he was excelled by many of his 
contemporaries, as for his great knowledge of antiquity, the 
multiplicity of his attainments, and his immense research in 
ancient languages.^^ His Commentary on Solinus, and his 
Treatise de Re Hellenistica, are imperishable monuments of his 
fame. Grotius alone could compete with him ; and if Grotius 
were at all inferior, which I know not, in the extent of his in- 

•1 Wood usertB that £!almaiiiui had no reward for hlB book. He laya, the king wmt 
Dr. Morley, then at Leyden, to the apologist with hia thanki, but not with a purM of 
gold, < aa John MUton the mqmdaU Uar reported.' Wood*! Ath. Ox. ii. p. 770. 

tt Toland says, ' What la worse than all the rest, Salmasius appeared on this occasion 
soch an absolute stranger, and bungler in his own province, as to open a large field for 
Milton to divert himself with his barbarous phrases and solecisms.* p. 96. The fact la, 
Salmasius, with all his vast erudition, fh>m a hasty impetuosity of mind, committed 
occasionally great mistakes. I have a work of his, in which he makes our Saountr horn 
at JervMdenu <Autant de tivres de sa fa^on, autant d'lmpromptu,* (says Vigneuil 
Marviile,) ' mais il ne dig6roit assez bien les matiires quMl traitoit. Ce qull donnoit ao 
public, il donnoit tout crQ, avec d6dain, et comme tout en coUre. D sembloit Jetter son 
Grec, son Latin, et toute sa science i la tftte des gens. Grotius au contraire considire 
tout, dlgire tout, TcH^onne, et la range sagement. D respecte et manage son lecteur. 
Son Erudition est comme une grande fleuve qui se r6pand largement, fliit du bien 4 tout 
le monde. Crescit cum amplitudine rerum, vis ingenii' — i. p. 9. *■ D'autres ne peuvent 
terlre qu>4 la hftte, et ne saurolent reposser sur leara ouvrages. M. de Saumaise ^toit 
de ce caractire.' Gronovius (de Sestertiis, p. 46,) lays of him, *■ Habebat hoc vlr ille 
incomparabills nt uberrimo ingenio nulla sufficeret manus, et ubi instltuerat scribere, 
nac veram, nee verbomm modum nosset. Sic flustum esset, at multa illi exclderent, 
qua norat ipse melius, et rectius alio die tradiderat, tradebatque qua, si paolulum at- 
tendisset animom, ftdle vitasset.* What the great Scaliger thought of Salmasius, then 
young, may be gathered ftom the beginning of one of his letters to him (Ep. ccxlviii.) 
* nimquam ah Epistolis tuis discedo nisi doctior :'— a delightfUl character of Salmasius 
is given by the learned Huet, In his Commentar. de Rebus, ad Kam (Se) pertih. p. ISS 
—130, who says, * Si quis certe anlmum ejus atque mores ex scripds sratimare vdit, 
anogans flilsse videatur, contumax, sibtque presidens ; at in nsu, et consnetudine vit«, 
nihil pladdias nihil mitius, comis adhec, orbanos, et oiBcil planus, vemm benignitali 


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formation, he far excelled Salmasius in the correctness of his 
judgment, the distribution of his knowledge, and the more 
luminous arrangement of his erudition. Grotius was an en* 
lightened philosopher, as well as a profound scholar ; and the 
names of these two illustrious men were in commendation not 
often disjoined. Selden speaks of Grotius, * as the greatest, the 
chief of men,' and of Salmasius as ' most admirable ;' to whom 
he wished much more to be like than to be the most eminent 
person for riches and honour in the world ; and Cardinal Riche- 
lieu declared, that Bignonius, Grotius, and Salmasius were the 
only persons of that age, whom he looked upon as arriyed at 
the highest pitch of learning. Such was the antagonist whom 
Milton had been conunanded to meet. The work which the 
exiled monarch required from the critic was probably somewhat 
beyond the circle of his. studies ; he wrote also on the unpopular 
side; and some among his friends neither admired the motive, 

eju ac qnltfti mnJtum officiebat uxor Imperiom Anna Merum,' and Uien lie proeaeds to 
gjLTe an accoant how Salmaaiiu's wife ineiated, when he waa pieaented at the eooxt of 
Christina, in dresmg Am m narUt brMches and glovttf witk a blaek cap mtd wMU featktr, 
Balmaaius told him he waa very iU with the gout the whole time he waa in Sweden ; 
that Christina used to come to his bed ; and one morning found him reading * Llbellum 
Subtuipicuium,' wliieb the afiHghted professor hid under the bedclothes ; but Christina 
searched for it and got it ; and, being delighted with it, called in a young and beautiftil 
lady of the name of * Sparra,' whom she made to read aloud the passages that pleased 
her; and while the girl blushed at her task, the aueen and her attendants were oon> 
rulaed with laughter. Huet saw at Salmasius^s house the girl * Pontia,* and says she 
was * satis elegans.' His account of the amour of Moras with this girl is not so unfit- 
vourable as Hilton's ; in Ihct, he made Moras sign a paper to marry her, but the passion 
and intemperance of Salmasius's wife rendered all interference unsuccessAU. Moras 
was ill in Salmasius'i house, and Pontia nursed him, which was the beginning of the 
acquaintance. An epitaph on Salmasius is given in V. Paravicini Sing, de Viris Erad. 
(1713) p. 901, in the bombastie style of the time. 

Ingens exigua Jacet hac sub mole sepultua 

Assertor Regum, numinis atque pugil 
Finivit Spade vitam Salmasius hogpea 

Trajectnm cineres ossaque triste tenet, 
duod mortale Aiit periit, pan altera colis 

Jleddita, fit m^Jor, doctior ease nequit. 

For Letters from Christina to Salmasius m the Ottoboni Palace at Rome, see Kleyslerl 
Travels, vol. iii. p. 147. 

VOL. I. H 




nor anticipated the success of his undertaking.^ Hobbes says, 
' he is unable to decide whose language is best, or whose argu- 
ment worst/ and certainly the question is too often lost sight of 
in discussing the niceties of verbal construction, or in personal 
altercation ; nor is the argument disposed with the calm and 
comprehensive views of the statesman and philosopher. That 
Milton's fame, however, was widely and honourably extended by 
thb performance, no doubt can be entertained ; it was 

In Liberty*! defence, a noble task, 

Of which all Europe ra$i£ ftom tide to lide : 

but that Salmasius suffered disgrace at the court of Christina ; that 
he was dismissed with contempt, or considered as defeated with 

tt See Sarravii EpiBtolaa. p. 5294 ; hia \ovt and admiration of Balmasius evince quail 
ties in that great man that commanded esteem. * De Salmaaio quid dicau ? Precipitl 
Octobri in amplexus ejus in. Cum eo vivere ameni et obeam libenter, vis plura? Si 
per Impoesiblle cuiquam mortalium erigantur unquam altaria, mihl, deus, deua llle de 
omnlgena doctrina, moribusqne bumanissimis tlbi comperta narrate nihil attinet.* p. 
aa. See also his 5lBt Epistle to Al. Hpre. In his 140th, speaking of the death of Grotius, 
he says, * Utri vestrum debeatur hujus ssculi principatus literarius, decemet ventura 
etas ! In the 196th Letters Serravlus first mentions the subject of Salmasius*s defence, 
which he applauds. * Laudo animi tul generosum propceitum, quo nefkndum scelus 
aperte damnare sustlnes.* Then he mentions that Soekart intended * eaindem spartam 
omare,' but had been dissuaded. In the 90Stfa, * de tuo pro infelici Rege apoligetlco 
■oleres fkcis, qui (kcis quod libet, et amicorum consUia spemls.* In the 314th, he has 
seen his work * Omnino magnus est iste tuus labor, et istam materiam proAude medltatus 
68.* In the S16tb, he says, < Tuam defenslonem quod spectat dolendum esset in ipeis 
nascendi primordiis interire.' In the 999d, he speaks of the Jiftk edition of Salmasius's 
work : in the S33d, he complains that a copy had not been sent to Charles*s widow. 
( Cluamvis enim sit in re minime lanta, tamen potuisse solvere pretium tabellarii, qui 
illud attuliaset.* The 9Q8th is the letter so often quoted, beginning, < Te ergo habemus 
leum (htentem.* Sarravlus difibred from him in his defence of Episcopacy. July, 1648, 
he tells him * vos amis se plaignent que vous ne fldtes rien de ce dont Us vous prient, et 
que vos ennemis au contraire ont Pavantage de vous fUre 4crtre de ce qu'il leur plait.* 
From a carefUl perusal of the correspondence connected with this subject, I am con- 
vinced that the effect said to be produced by If Qton's defence on Salmasius, and on his 
reputation, has been pndigioudf oMrraUd. Salmasius seems al that time to have been 
as much Interested about other works which he had m hand, and especially about con- 
ducting safely and commodiously his Journey to Sweden, and preserving his health in 
that cold climate. It must also be observed that, whatever More*8 moral character was, 
he stood in high esteem and reputation in the learned world, and that MUton*s attack 
therefore aflbcted him deeply. See Tan. Fabri. Epistol. Izvi. lib. i. ed. 1674, p. 819. 
A Aill and impartial account of him may be read in Bayle's Diet. Art. * Uorus.* Archd. 
Blackbama calls More the .dttarhtry, or rather the Doddt of his age. v. Mem. of Hollls, 
p. 509. 


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dishonour, rests upon no valid authority. Milton m his second 
defence expressly allowed, that the queen, attentive to the dig- 
nity of her station, let the stranger experience no diminution of 
her former kindness, or munificence. The health of that illus- 
trious scholar had long been languishing under his unremitted 
labours. He was afflicted with gout, if not with stone, and he 
went to seek relief from the mineral waters of Spa (which he 
was supposed to have drunk improperly), where he died. The 
queen had offered him large appointments^^ to remain in 
Sweden, and greatly regretted his departure ; but the coldness 
of the climate was injurious to him : and afler his death, she 
wrote a letter full of concern for his loss, and respect for his 
memory ; the slander first thrown out in the Mercurius Politicus, 
and so frequently repeated, ought no longer to be believed. 
Salmasius went full of years and honours to his grave. 

The purpose of Salmasiui^^ was to support the doctrine of 
the divine rights of kings : to prove that the king is a person 
with whom the supreme power of the kingdom resides, and 
who is answerable to Qod alone. Milton asserted the undis- 
puted sovereignty of the people. This he terms agreeable to 

M He had a penciott of 40,000 Utvm ftom Sweden. It wfll aetonUi mmm of my 
leaden to know Uwt SalnMcitti wu a rtpm Uie m, < Placebet Balmaeto llbeia reepublka.' 
He WW inyfted by the Unlvenity of Oxford to eecUe tbere on very handsome termi : 
< and' aaye hia biographer, * be would haye gone * nlai aliquld ab eo petltaent, quamvli 
beatlailoia condittone, qnod cum ad nationla utflltatem ipectaret, non erat tamen ad 
gBnium Ipeittfl }> but so Ikr was Salmasius, as all Hilton's biographers assert, from being 
a slavish admirer of klngi or regal governments, that * Bataviam hfte in parte pra 
AnglU prafeiebat qnod mijorem semper in reqwMiM quam in ngno Ubertmtmn esse 
Judlcaiet.' ▼. Vlt. Salmas. p. zvi. It was not solely on account of his superior learning 
that Salmasius was selected by the adherent! of Charles, but that some of bis previous 
wiitingi on matton connectsd with the church and the sects, had produced much effect 
In England. * Dissertatlo de episcopis et presbytorls multum juverat optime sentientes 
(in Britannii) In abrogando Jure Episcoporum, quod multi ex proceribus, et viris pri- 
marlls nltro cum gratiarum actione testati sunt:* and it appears that he was in the habit 
of being consultod on ecclesiastical allblrs by the persons of rank and influence In Eng- 
land, ( Consilium Salmasii scpius per deputstiones implorarunt legni proceres.' 

M Dr. Bymmons has allowed the skill and eloquence displayed in the work of Sal- 
■ashis, Tide LUb, p. 956, and has shown how much Burke was indebted to it. In that 
strange rambling work, T. HoUis's Memoirs, there Is an engraving by Cipriani, repre- 
seating MUton'a bead on a terminus, on which Is a medallion suspended inclosing the 
peitnit of Salmasiiw ; this was a print emblematical of MltoM>e victory, v. p. 988. 


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the laws of God and of nature. That by the laws of God, by 
those of nations, and by the municipal laws of our own country, 
a king of England may be brought to trial and to death; that 
the laws of God do in this exactly agree with the laws of nature ; 
and that this is a settled maxim of the law of nature, never to be 
shaken, that the senate and the people are superior to kings ; 
and that, if asked by what law, by what right or justice, the 
king was dethroned, the answer is, by that law which God and 
nature have created ; that whatever things are for the universal 
good of the whole state, are for that reason lawful and just ; 
and that a people obliged by an oath is discharged of that ob- 
ligation, when a lawful prince becomes a tyrant, or gives him- 
self over to sloth and voluptuousness. The rule of justice, the 
very law of nature, dispenses with such a people's allegiance. 
That these doctrines have been always acknowledged by the 
common consent of mankind, he endeavours to prove from the 
history of ancient nations. Thus the kings of the Jews were 
subject to the very same laws as the people. He traces a 
similar belief through Egypt and Persia, through the Grecian 
history, and the annals of the Roman empire. He alleges the 
authority of the ancient Scriptures, the gospel, and the fathers. 
He then finds his doctrine supported by the usage and consti- 
tution of our government from the period of the British history, 
through the Saxon and Norman times, and traces the supreme 
power of the legislative assembly to the reign of Charles. Such 
IS a faint outline of his argument; in this work he openly 
accuses Buckingham of having poisoned King James, and 
afterwards even makes a bolder assertion, that Charles was ac- 
cessory to the crime. 

The first reply to Milton's Defensio Populi*^ was published 
in 1651. Milton, who assisted his nephew Philips in the answer, 
was willmg to consider it as the production of that distinguished 
prelate, Bramhall, whom he treats with the same coarseness of 

M Id tbe origliia] edidoiw of tiie DefoiMlo Popnll, and Defensio Secunda, the name 
oftbe amhor ia printed Joannia Hiltonl, L e. Htttonii ; lie therefofe diffdied ftom Uioaa 
who woQld rendar tbe Bngllah tennlnatkm < on,' by < onoa> In Latin. 


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sarcasm, aad violence of inTective, which had been employed 
against Salmasius, imputing to him the greatest excesses, and 
the practice of the most degrading vices. BramhalP^ had dis- 
owned the writing imputed to him, but the real author was not 
discovered till the industry of Mr. Todd brought the secret to 
light. He proves to be one John Rowland, and calls himself 
* Pastor Ecclesise particulrjis.' In this tract the accusation of 
the death of James the First by poison is repeated. 

Next year appeared ' Regii Sanguinis clamor ad ccelum :' 
this work was written by Peter du Moulin, a Frenchman, after- 
wards prebendary of Canterbury ; but A. More, who had the 
care of the publication, was treated by Milton as the real author. 
The mistake was afterwards discovered, but Milton had ex- 
hausted his invective against More, and suffered Du Moulin to 
escape. Alexander More was a Scotchman by birth, settled in 
France, and was the son of the principal of the Protestant Col- 
lege of Castres in Languedoc. He was a person of talent and 
learning, but more eminently distinguished as a brilliant though 
eccentric preacher. It was an unfortunate hour for him when 
he threw the shield of his name to protect Du Moulin's writings, 
for More's personal character was open to remark. He had, it 
appears, entered into a love-intrigue at Leyden, with an English 
girl, who is called Pontia, and who was waiting-maid to the wife 
of Salmasius.^® This occasioned much domestic dispute and 

9t See extract ftom Bishop Bnunhall*t Letter to his son, May, 1654. < That silly book, 
which be ascribes to me, was written by one John Bowiand, who since hath replied upon 
him. I never read a word either of the first book or the reply In my life.* ▼. Toddfs 
Uf^, p. 83. 

The wife of Salmasina was a great shrew, but she had a high opinion of her has. 
band. II se laissoit dominer par une femme hautaine et chagrine, qui se vantolt d'avofar 
pour man, mals non pour mattre * le plus savant de tous les nobles, et le plus noble de 
tons les savans.* ▼. Huetlena, p. z. The 68th Letter of Sarravius opens a carious 
domestic picture of Salmaslus's flunily. He bad, It appears, applied to Sarravius to 
procure him some maid-servants, and his friend fkirly answers him. * Timeo ne itineris 
diffleultates, euro Mxorw ttM morite^ multas deterreant.* Salmasius was presented with 
the order of SU Michael by Louis XIII. hence Milton calls him ' Eques.'— The biographers 
of Hilton have tjiken their account of Salmasius chiefly fnm N. Heinsius, without 
keeping in mind that Heinsius was his UHtr and inqflaeabU ensmy. Not wishing to give 
oflfeneo, still I must say, that not one of those who have written on this controversy, 
seems to me to be really acquainted with the works or character of Balmaaias. See 
atoo N. Hainan Poem. Lat. ISO. 105. 


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jealousy in the house of the learned professor, and became the 
subject of raillery in the correspondence of the friends of Sal- 
masius. It spears also, that a similar adventure with a servant 
maid, of the name of Claudia Peletta, with whom More is ac- 
cused of intriguing before and after her marriage^ was the oc- 
casion of his leaving Geneva ; and a third amour, with a young 
female domestic of the name of Tibaltiana, is also mentioned. 
Milton did not spare his enemy on the side where he was so 
much exposed ; and More shrunk from the bitter storm of invec- 
tive, sarcasm, and irony, that his indignant antagonist poured 
on all sides upon hun.^ 

The ' Second Defence' is one of the most interesting of 
Milton's writings. Johnson has quoted from it the eloquent 
eulogy on Cromwell : the character of Bradshaw is drawn with 
all the skill and power of Clarendon, and presents a noble por- 
trait of the intrepid regicide ; and the address to Fairfax has fan 
ever exalted the character, and dignified the retirement, of that 
illustrious soldier. I shall add Milton's commemoration of 
other names, not less celebrated in the history of that eventful 
time. 'First you, Fleetwood^ whom I have known to have 
been always the same in the humanity, gentleness, and be- 
nignity of your disposition, from the time you first entered 
on the profession of a soldier, to your obtainment of those mili- 
tary honours, the next only to the first, and whom the enemy 
has found of dauntless valour, but the mildest of conquerors ; 
and you, Lambert^ who, when a young man, at the head of a 
mere handful of men, checked the progress of the Duke of 
Hamilton, attended with the power and strength of the Scottish 
youth, and kept him at check ; you, Desborrow, and you, 
WhalUy, whom, whenever I heard or read of the fiercest bat- 
tles of this war, I always expected and found among the thickest 
of the enemy ; you, Overton, who have been connected with 

m In SuntTil Epistols are muiy •ddresMd with respect and esteem to Al. More. He 
■eenu not to haye been permanently I^Jared by Hilton** attack, and he would hardly 
be lecognixed as tksMauptnou in the paity-«tatenient of Hilton, and the impartial Ulb 
by Bi^le. A copy of Latin ▼eraei by A. Move, addreieed to N. Heinalue, la in tlie Adop- 
tlTonim Oannina, p. 19. 


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me for these many years, in a more than brotherly union, by 
similitude of studies, and by the sweetness of your manners. 
In that memorable battle of Marston Moor, when our left wing 
was routed, the chief officers looking back in their flight beheld 
you keeping your ground with your infantry, and repelling the 
ajttacks of the enemy amid heaps of slain on both sides ; and 
ailerwards in the war in Scotland, no sooner were the shores of 
Fife occupied, under the auspices of Cromwell, with your 
troops, and the way opened beyond Stirling, than both the 
western and the northern Scots acknowledged you for the 
humanest of enemies, and the farthest Orcades for their civil- 
izing conqueror. I will yet add some, whom, as distinguished 
lor the robe and arts of peace, you have nominated as your 
counsellors, and who are known to me either by friendship or 
reputation. Whitlocke, Pickering, Strickland, Sydenham, and 
Sydney^ (an illustrious name which I rejoice has steadily 
adhered to our side), Montague, Lawrence, both men of the 
first capacity, and polished by liberal studies, besides number- 
less other citizens, distinguished for their rare merits, some for 
their former senatorial exertions, others for their military ser- 
vices.' A splendid eulogium rewarded the virgin Queen of the 
north, the daughter of Adolphus, for the praise she was reported 
to have given to Milton's defence, and the magnanimity which 

There is a tbu» when gentleat thoughts era oon. 
When like one long and Samnier day of eaee, 
We wear on month, and month, and m may pleaee 
The ebimings of the fkncy, in onr bowen 
Pieport, or through the wood-paths, wild with flowers. 
Roam in the heart's glad pastime ; whether the breexe 
Be heard at mom, or mid the noonday trees 
Repose, or night light up her starry towers. 
And there too is a time for other mood, 
When we must dwell among the walks of men, 
With eye of loftiest aspect, fortitude. 
And sternness on our flroni ; and wearing then 
That mighty sword, which Sydssy unsubdued 
Wore at his side, thou|^ in the tyrant's den. 
SsnJheU, 1831. J. M 


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led her to read and even to applaud what seemed written against 
her own right and dignity.^ 

Flushed with his yictory, and proud of the great reputation 
which he had acquired, Milton opened his second defence with 
a triumphant anticipation of the sentence that would be passed 
on it : ' He now/ he says, * feels himself not in the forum, or 
on the rostrum, surrounded by a single people only, whether 
Roman or Athenian, but as it were by listening Europe, con- 
fiding and passing judgment He addresses himself to all sit- 
tings and assemblies, wherever are to be found men of the 
highest authority, wherever there are cities and nations. He 
imagines himself set out on his travels; that he beholds from on 
high, tracts beyond the seas, and wide extended regions ; that 
he beholds countenances strange and numberless, and all in 
feelings of mind, his closest friends and neighbours. Wherever 
there are natures free, ingenuous, magnanimous, either they are 
prudently concealed or openly professed. Some favour in 
silence, others give their suffrages in public. Some hasten to 
receive me with shouts of applause, others, in fine, vanquished 
by truth, surrender themselves captive. Encompassed by such 
countless multitudes, it seems to me, that from the columns of 
Hercules, to the farthest borders of India, that, throughout this 
vast expanse, I am bringing back, bringing home to every nation 
liberty, so long driven out, so long an exile ; and, as is recorded 
of Triptolemus of old, that I am importing fruits for the nations 
from my own city, but of a far nobler kind than those fruits of 
Ceres. That I am spreading abroad among the cities, the 
kingdoms, and nations, the restored culture of civility and free- 
dom of life.* 

He had been reproached by his adversaries with his blind- 

9 I would wish to remove the impreaeion, if such eiiats, tbat Salmuloa entered into 
this controverey as an advocate of the regal righto, IVoni hUtrettM motives, without a 
conviction of the Justice of his cause. The death, if not the def hronement of Charles, 
excited great horror and Indignation in other nations ; with what feelinp Salniasiua 
came to his task, may be Judged by the language which N. Heinsius uses on this subject : 
■ee his Poemata, Eleg. Lib. ii. 4. p. 43. ill. 1. p. 64. 8. p. 79. z. p. 89. Sylv. Lib. ill. 
p. 198. * AmtiphatA dignua Rege BritBanus erat.' 


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and his answer to the charge can be read by no one 
without high admiraticm of the magnanimity of his'mindy and 
the strength of his piety. To be blind, he says, is not miser- 
able, but not to be able to bear blindness, that is miserable 
indeed. He calls God to witness, the searcher of the inmost 
spirit, and of every thought, that he is unconscious of any thing, 
(though he has visited all the recesses of his heart) of any 
crime, the heinousness of which could have justly called down 
this calamity upon him above others. That he has written 
nothing which he was not persuaded at the time, and is still per- 
suaded, was right and true, and pleasing to God. And this, 
without being moved by ambition, by lucre, or by glory, but 
solely by a sense of duty, of grace, and of devotion to his coun- 
try. Then let the slanderers (he says) of the judgments of 
God cease their revilings. Let them desist from their dreamy 
forgeries concerning me. Let them know that I neither repine 
at, nor repent me of my lot : that I remain fixed, immoveable 
in my opinion : that I neither believe, nor have found that God 
is angry : nay, that in things of the greatest moment, I have 
experienced, and acknowledge his mercy, and his paternal 
goodness towards me. That above all, in regard of this ca- 
lamity, I acquiesce in his divine will, for it is he himself who 
comforts and upholds my spirit, being ever more mindful of what 
he shall bestow upon me, than of what he shall deny me. B^ 
sides, how many things are there which I should choose not to 
see? how many which I might be unwilling to see? and how 
few remaining things are there which I should desire to see ? 
Neither am I concerned at being classed, though you think 
this a miserable thing, with the blind, with the afflicted, with 
the miserable, with the weak. Since there is a hope that, on 
this account, I have a nearer claim to the mercy a^d protection 
of the sovereign Father. There is a way, and the Apostle is my 
authority, through weakness to the greatest strength. May I 
be one of the weakest, provided only in my weakness, that im- 
mortal and better vigour be put forth with greater effect : pro- 
vided only in my darkness the light of the divine countenance 

VOL. I. I 

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does bttt more brightly shine ; for then I shall at once be the 
weakest and most mighty ; shall be at once blind, and of the 
most piercing sight. Thus, through this infirmity should I be 
consummated, perfected. Thus, through this darkness should 
I be enrobed with light. And, in truth, we who are blind, are 
not the last regarded by the providence of God ; who, as we 
are incapable to discern any thing but himself, beholds us with 
the greater clemency and benignity. Woe be to him who makes 
a miock of us. Woe be to him who injures us ; he deserves to 
be devoted to the public curse. The divine law, the divine 
favour has made us not merely secure, but, as it were, sacred 
from the injuries of men ; nor would have seemed to have brought 
the darkness upon us, so much by inducing a dimness of the 
eyes, as by the overshadowing of heavenly wings. Besides, as 
I am not grown torpid by indolence, since my eyes have deserted 
me, but am still active, still ready to advance among the for»> 
most to the most arduous struggles for liberty ; I am not there- 
fore deserted by men even of the first rank in the state. Thus, 
while I can derive consolation in my blindness both fix>m Grod 
and man, let no one be troubled that I have lost my eyes in an 
honourable cause : and far be it from me to be troubled at it ; 
fiir be it from me to possess so little spirit as not to be able 
without difficulty to despise the revilers of my blindness, or so 
little placability as not to be able with still less difficulty to for- 
give them.' The treatise, after a succession of passages of 
great eloquence and animation, ends with an earnest and solemn 
address to the people of England to provfi4hemselves worthy of 
the victory they have gained, and the position they have secured. 
He warns them to derive their liberty not from arms, but from 
piety, justice, temperance ; in fine, from real virtue, not to make 
war alone their virtue, or highest glory, or to neglect the arts of 
peace; to banish avarice, ambition, luxury, and all excess 
from their thoughts ; such is the warfare of peace ; victories 
hard, it is true, but blameless; more glorious far than the war- 
like or the bloody. ' As for myself,' he says (speaking with 
something of a prq>hetic sorrow), 'to whatever state things 


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may retorn, I have performed, and certainly with good will, I 
hope not in yain, the senrice which I thought would be of nuwl 
use to the commonwealth. It is not before our doors alone that 
I have borne my arms in defence of liberty. I have wielded 
them in a field so wide that the justice and reason of those which 
are no vulgar deeds, shall be explained and vindicated alike to 
foreign natures and our own countrymen. If after achievements 
so magnanimous, ye basely fall from your duty, if ye are guilty 
of any thing unworthy of you, be assured, posterity will speak, 
and thus pronounce its judgment. The foundation was strongly 
laid. The beginning, nay, more than the beginning, was ex- 
cellent ; but it will be inquired, not without a disturbed emotion, 
Who raised the superstructure, who completed the fabric t To 
undertakings so grand, to virtues so noble, it will be a subject 
of grief that perseverance was wanting. It will be seen that 
the harvest of glory was abundant ; but that men were not to 
be found for the work. Yet that there was not wanting one 
who could give good counsel, who could exhort, encourage : 
who could adorn and celebrate in immortal praises the tran- 
scendent deeds, and those who performed them.' Another 
piece, in which he defends himself personally against More, and 
repeats his accusations, is all which is necessary to notice in 
this remarkable controversy .^ 

Milton was now removed by an order of council from his 
lodgings at Whitehall,^ and took a garden house in Petty France, 
in Westminster, opening into St. James's Park : in this house 
he continued till within a few weeks of the Restoration. 
In 1651 he was suffering under the approach of total blindness. 
He had lost the entire use of one eye : and his nephew, Edward 
Philips, was supposed to have greatly assisted him in the affairs 

• In noticing MQton*fl mistake in the nae of the word ' Vapolandus,* Johnaon has 
obeerved UiatKer, and MUM oii«i4fbrf Mm, had remarked it. Thii pemn was VavaMor. 
de Epig. exzii. p. 144. See CrenU Animad. PhUolog. I9mo, p. 77. * Dlad miram parlter 
et feadTiim qaod la quo loco et qoibas plane verbis attriboit Salmaaio solselsmoa, lisdem 
ipse solacismom, aut solseismo flagitiom non minns admittat.' 

« Pmrioosly to his going to Uve in BcoUand Yard, Whitehall, Milton lodged at one 
Thomson's, next door to the Bull Head Tavern, Charing Cross. See Blreh*s lA^, p, 
zxxTiii. In Scotland Yard his inibnt son died. 




of secretary. In 1652 his sight was totally gone.^ His ene- 
mies, as we have seen, considered his blindness as a judgment for 
writing against the king ; and one of the prebendaries of Exeter 
reproached him, even from the pulpit, with the severe visitation. 
But he himself more truly accounted for the affliction by the 
wearisome labours and studious watchings wherein he spent, 
and almost tired out, a whole youth. His letter to his Athenian 
friend, Leonard Phileras, gives an account of the gradual ap- 
proach of the disease. Philips says that Milton was always tam- 
pering with physic : to which he attributes the loss of his sight, 
as well as to his continual studies, and the headaches to which 
he had been subject from his youth. 

It is supposed that in 1653 Milton lost his first wife, who 
died in childbed, leaving him three daughters. He remained a 
widower for three years, when he was again united in marriage 
to a daughter of Captain Woodcock of Hackney. She also 
died within a year after her marriage, in the same manner ; 
and in one of his sonnets he has paid an affectionate tribute to 
her memory. Soon after this event, he retired from his office 
of secretary* on an allowance for life, of one hundred and fifty 
pounds a year. His name does not again occur in the books of 
the council of state ; his friend^ Andrew Marvell had been as- 
sociated with him. 

As we are now arrived at the close of Milton's public life, it 
may be as well for a moment to look back, and recollect the 

4 Hia eyesight was decaying about twenty yean before bia death. Hia fother read 
without apectaclea till eighty-four. His mother had very weak eyes, and used specta- 
cles presently after she was thirty years old. Aubrey Lett. ill. p. 449. He lost the use 
of his left eye in 1651 ; and it is suiiposed, of the other, in 1654. See Todd^s Life (lit 
ed.), p. 85 } but the period of the complete affliction is not known with exactness. 

ff But see Mr. Todd's Life (ed. S.), p. 158, who says some ofRcial documents were 
written by him after 1655. The last payment of his salary was Oct. S9, 1659, when be 
was sequestered ftom the office. 

6 " His familiar learned acquaintance were A. Marrell, Lawrence, Needham, Hartlib, 
Mr. Skinner, Dr. Paget, M. D. Mr. Skinner was his disciple. — Hli widow assures mo 
that Mr. Hobbes was not one of hts acquainUnce. That her husband did not like him 
St all ; but he would acknowledge him to be a man of great parts, and a learned man." 
Aubrey Lett. iii. 444. He had no intimacy with Cromwell, nor with those in power. 
Re tens Heimbach that he cannot serve him, " Propter paocisalinas fhinlliarltates meas 
cum gratiosis." Ep. Fam. Dec. 18, 16St, 


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syalem i^n which he asserts his political career to hare been 
conducted, and th^ end to which his writings were directed. 
He says, when the outcry against the bishops commenced, and 
the model of our reformed church was to its disadvantage com- 
pared to others, he saw that a way was opening for the estab- 
lishment of real liberty. That he perceived there were three 
species of liberty essential to the happiness of social life — 
religious, domestic, and civil. To promote the first, he wrote 
his Treatise on Reformation, &c. ; and as he saw that the 
magistrates were active in obtaining the third, he therefore 
turned his attention to the second, or domestic. This included 
three material questions ; first, the conduct of the conjugal tie ; 
secondly, the education of children ; and, thirdly, the free pub- 
lication of the thoughts. These questions were severally con- 
sidered by him in his Treatise on Divorce, his Tractate on 
Education, and his Areopagitica, or Liberty of unlicensed 
printing. With regard to civil affairs, he left them in the hands 
of the magistrates, till it became necessary to vindicate the 
right of lawfiilly dethroning, or destroying tyrants (without any 
immediate or personal application to Charles), against the doc- 
trine of the Presbyterian ministers. Such were the fruits of his 
private studies, which he had gratuitously presented to church 
and state, and for which he was recompensed by nothing but 
impunity. Though the actions themselves (he says) procured 
me peace of conscience, and the approbation of the good ; 
while I exercised that fireedom of discussion which I loved. 

Disencumbered of the duties of secretary, disgusted with 
the treachery of parties, and the failure of his fondest wishes, 
Milton at length retreated from the changes and turbulence of 
the times, and had now leisure to resume the great works which 
he had long destined for his fiiture employment. He com- 
menced a history of his native country, a dictionary of the 
Latin language,"^ more copious and correct than that of Ste- 

7 These coHeedoiM conflicted of throe large volumes in folio. They were much die- 
eompoeed and deficient, but were used by the editors of the Comb. Diet. In 1693, 4to. 
See the Fjwf. to Alnsworth's Lat. Thesaurus. It was said that Philips was the last 
posssesor of these collections. I have an extract from a bookseller's catalogue by me^ 


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phens ; he framed a body of divinity out of the Bible ; and, 
lastly, he sketched the first. outlines of his immortal poem. For 
the subject of his epic poem, says Johnson, after much deliber- 
ation, long choosing, and beginning late, he fixed upon Paradise 
Lost, a design so comprehensive, that it could be justified only 
by success. He had once meant to celebrate the exploits of 
K. Arthur, as he has hinted in his Verses, *' but," says Toland, 
" this particular subject was reserved for the celebrated pen of 
Sir Richard Blackmore." Amidst the prosecution of these 
great and laborious designs, he found time during the year 1659 
for some humbler occupations. He edited some manuscript 
treatises of Sir Walter Raleigh. He published the foreign cor- 
respondence of the English parliament and of Cromwell ; he 
wrote (against the Presbyterians) his " Considerations to remove 
hirelings out of the Church ;" and, alarmed at the prospect of 
a returning monarchy, he printed his *' Ready and easy Way to 
establish a free Commonwealth." What he speaks, he says, is 
the language of that which is not called amiss — '' the good old 
cause." It appears firom a passage in this treatise, that com- 
merce had much languished during the civil wars and usurpa- 
tion ; and that the trading community were all anxious for the 
return of a luxurious court, and the assistance of regal prodi- 

When the restoration of the king proved all his wishes fruit- 
less, Milton withdrew to a friend's house in Bartholomew Close. 
This temporary concealment seems to have been necessary to 
his safety, for a particular prosecution was directed against him. 

It is mentioned by his biographers that a mock^ funeral was 
made for him, and that when matters were arranged, the care- 
less and merry monarch laughed at the imposition. It was 
however ordered, that his ' Iconoclastes' and 'Defensio pro 
Populo Anglicano' should be burned by the common hangman, 
and that the attorney general should proceed against them by 

DtcUonary, Latin and Engliah, compiled ftom tbe works of Stephens, Cooper, Uttelton, 
a large MS. in three Tolumet, of Mr. John Milton, 15s. 4to. 

9 This circumstance was first related by T. Warton, on the authority of Tyen , see 
his ed. of MiltoD, p. 308, and by Cunningham in bis Hist, of G. Britain, 1. p. 14. 

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indictment, or otherwise. Of the proscribed books several 
copies on the 27th of Aognst' were committed to the flames. 
Within three days after this, the act of indemnity passed^ and 
he was relieved from the necessity of further conceahnent. 
When subsequently he was in the custody of the serjeant at 
arms, it is supposed that his pardon was obtained by the inter- 
vention of some powerful friends.^^ Whether the story of 
Davenant's assistance is authentic, I am not able to say. The 
house, on the 13th of December, ordered his release : but how 
long he remained in custody is not known. Richardson says, 
that he Uved in perpetual terror of being assassinated. It has 
been asserted, that Milton was offered the place of Latin secre-^ 
tary to the king, an offer that it is obvious, he could not in 
honour or conscience accept ; and that on his wife pressing his 
compliance, he said, ' Thou art in the right ; you, as other 
women, would ride in your coach ; for me, my aim is to live and 
die an honest man.' 

In 1661 he published his' Accidence commenced Grammar,' 
bending his great and comprehensive mind to the construction 
of those humbler works which he considered of advantage ta 
education. He lived for a short time in Holbom, near Red 
Lion Street, but soon removed to Jewin Street, by Aldersgate. 
In 1664, the year previous to the great sickness, he married his 
third wife, Elizabeth Minshull, of a genteel family in Cheshire, 
a rela^n of his particular friend Dr. Paget.^^ Bfr. Todd con- 

• In 1683 twentj-Mven propotitloni from the writiBp of Miltoir, HobbM, BachaDaii, 
Jbe. were bunt at Oxford, ae deetractive to Clmreb and State. This tzanaaetloii la 
eeleteated la Unas AnfUeaiw, called Decretum Ozoolenae, toL UL p. 180. 


■ 81 afaniUa qoiemifiie li«e aeripaerit aactor, 

Feto aaecnlmiaaet, eodemqne anerit fgne : 
In mediH videaa ftammA cvepttante cremari 

10 Tbe moat cofriooa aceoQUt of the eireuoiataneeB attending Milcon*a pardon are In 
Xlehardaon*a Ijife, p. 86, Jbe. commanicated by Pope ; who la alao the anthority for the 
aaaertfca th^ Ifllton waa eflbred the place of Latin aecretary to the king. 

11 The Poet*B widow died at Nantwicb, In Cheahlze, In 1737, having aorriyed her 
huaband flfty-two years : her ftmeral lennon, praached by the Bev. I. Kember, la pob- 
llahed. < I lemeraber,* aaya Dr. Newton, * to have heard fVom a gentleman who had 


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aiders it worthy of obeerTation, that Milton chose his three wives 
out of the virgin state ; while Sheffield dake of Buckingham 
selected his three from that of widowhood : but what inference 
the learned biographer would draw from their respective choices, 
is, from an entire ignorance on these subjects, to me unknown. 
Sheffield was probably looking out for a splendid jointure, and 
Milton for a gentle, virtuous, and attached companion. 

From some cause, of course too trifling to be known to us, 
probably from the numerous fluctuations of his fortune, Milton 
seems to have been extremely unsettled in his choice of a resi- 
dence. Soon after his marriage, he lodged with Millington, the 
famous book auctioneer, a man of remarkable elocution, wit, 
' sense, and modesty. Richardson says, that Millington was ac- 
customed to lead his venerable inmate by the hand, when he 
walked the streets ; the person who acquainted Richardson with 
this fact, had often met Milton abroad with his conductor and 
host. He again removed to a small house in Artillery Walk, 
leading to BunhiU-fields, which. Philips says, was his last stage 
in this world, but it was of many years continuance, more per- 
haps than he had had in any other place besides. 

The plague had now begun to rage in London, and his young 
friend, El wood the duaker, found a shelter for him at Chalfont^^ 
in Buckinghamshire. ' It was on a visit at this place, that, after 
some common discourses, says Elwood, had passed between us, 
he called for a MS. of his, which, being brought, he delivered 
to me, bidding me take it home with me, and read it at my 
leisure : and when I had so done, return it to him with my 
judgment thereupon. When I came home, and set myself to 

■een Us widow in CbMhlro, that atra had hair of this colour (golden tresses) : it is more 
probable that he intended a compliment to his wife in the drawing of Eve, as he drew 
the portrait of Adam not Withoat regard to his own person, of which he had no mean 
opinion.* 7. P. L. iv. 305. The Aubrey MSB. say, she was a genteel person, a peace- 
ful and agreeable humour. ▼. Vol. iii. p. 443. 

IS See an engraving of this house in Dunster's edition of Paradise Regained, and an 
■ceoant in Todd's Life of Milton, p. 97S. I possess a drawing of it made about five 
years since, by which it appears, that a small part of it has been taken down and altered. 
Elwood calls it a pretty box. Milton is supposed to have resided there from the summer 
of 1669, to the March or April of the following year. It appears that the plague reached 
even Chalfont, as may be seen by the Register iu 1665. 


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read it, I found that it was that exceUent Poem, which he en- 
titled Paradise Lost.' From this account it appears that Para- 
dise Lost was complete in 1665, and Aubrey represents it as 
finished about three years after the king's restoration. Milton 
describes himself as long choosing and beginning late the sub- 
ject of his Poem, and when that was selected, it was at first 
wrought into a dramatic form, like some of the ancient myste- 
ries. There were two plans of the tragedy, both of which are 
preserred among the manuscripts in Trinity College, Cambridge ; 
and which were printed, I believe, for the first time in Dr. 
Birch's Narrative of the Poet's Life.^^ Such were the early 
and imperfect rudiments of Paradise Lost : the slender mate- 
rials which he possessed in the story, and the splendid snper- 
stmction which he raised upon it, may remind us of the passage. 
In which he has thrown over the simple language of the ancient 
prophets, a magnificent description of his own creation.^^ 
Isaiah had said, ' that Lucifer sate upon the mount of the con- 
gregation, on the sides of the north.' The key-note was strtt<^ 
on the chords of the Hebrew lyre, and Milton instantly built i;^ 
a palace for the fallen angei, equal in brilliancy and splendour to 
the castles of Romance. He piled up its pinnacles from di*- 
mond quarries ; and hewed its towers out of rocks of gold. 

< At length into the limits of the north 
They came, and Satan to his royal seat. 
High on a hill, far blazing, as a moant 
Kais*d on a mount, with pyramids and towers, 
Prom diamond quarries hewn, and rocks of gold. 
The palace of great Lucifer, so call 
That structure in the dialect of men 
Interpreted , which not long alter he 
Affecting all equality with God, 
In imitation of that mount, whereon 
Messiah was declared in sight of heaven, 
The mountain of the oongregatkm caU*d,* Ibe. 

How small the spark that could kindle into a poetical fiame 
in Milton's mind ! how quick the apprehension that seized the 

13 Bee p. xlviU. of his Life. 

14 See T. Walton's Hilton, p. 938. 

VOL. I. K 


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slightest hint I and how rich and fertile the geniud to improve what 
it possessed I Callimachus had (Hymn. Del. 292) mentioned 
three Hyperborean nymphs, who sent fruits to Apollo in Delos. 
The word < Hyperborean' was sufficient. Instantly Milton Con- 
verts them into British goddesses, and clothes them in a Pictish 
drees. Selden had mentioned that Apollo was worshipped in 
Britain ; Milton on thQse hints joins them to the Druids : 

* Hinc quoties festo cingunt altazia eanta 
Delo In bertxwlk Grate 4e more paells, 
Cvmlnibua Ictis memonnt CorinClda Loxo, 
Fatidicamque Upin, cum flavlcoma BecaerfB, 
Nuda Caledoolo Tarlataa pectora lUco.' 

T. MmikmUf ver. 45. 

What extent of time was passed in the composition of this 
great work is not with exactness known. Mr. Capel Loflft 
thinks that Milton began this poem in his forty-eighth year,* 
and finished it in his fifly-seventh. Philips says that he had the 
perusal of it from the very beginning, for some years, in parcels 
of ten, twenty, or thirty verses at a time ; and that his vein 
never happily flowed but from the autumnal equinox to the 
vernal ; so that in all the years he was about the poem, he may 
be said to have spent about half his time therein. Toland 
imagines!^ that Philips was mistaken with regard to the time, 
since Milton declared in his Latin elegy that his poetic talent 
returned with the spring. 

* FUlor ? an et nobis redeiint In cannina viiea 
Ingeniumque mihi manere veris adeat.' 

A friend of Milton's also informed Toland that Milton could 
never compose well but in the s{Hring and autunm. He then 
poured out with great ease and fluency his unpremeditated 
verses. Dr. Johnson says, that there are no other internal notes 
of the time when the poem was written but the mention of the 

« V. Praftee to Loflt't MUton, p. zxirlil. The Aabrey Letten, (toI. iU. p. 447.) < His 
vane bepn at Um autumnal equinoctial, and ceased at the vemal, or tberoabonlp (I 
heUere about Majr;) and this waa four or five years of his doing it. He began about 
two years belbn the king came in, and finished about three years alter the klng^ 

u Birch's Ulb, p. Ivl 


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I068 of his sight in the beginning of the third book» and of the 
return of the King in the introduction to the seventh. 

Some difficulty was experienced in obtaining a license ; ^^ 
and objections were made to particular passages, especially to 
the simile of the sun eclipsed, in the first book. But it was at 
length granted, and he sold his copy to Samuel Simmons, April 
27, 1667, for an immediate payment of five pounds, with a stip- 
ulation to receive five pounds more when thirteen hundred of 
the first edition should be sold ; again five pounds afler the sale 
of the same number of the second edition, and another five 
pounds after the same sale of the third. None of the three 
editions were to be extended beyond fifteen hundred copies. 
The ^st edition was of the poem in ten books, in small quarto,* 
which were advertised plainly and neatly bound, at the price of 
three shillings. The titles were varied in order to circulate 
the edition in 1667,^7 iq/qs, 1669. Of these there were no 
less than five. An advertisement and the arguments of the 
books were omitted in some copies, and inserted in others ; and 
firom variations in the text, it would appear that single pages 
were cancelled and reprinted. 
The sale gave him in two years a right to his second pay- 
s' Mr. TomUna, chaplain to Archblihop Sheldon, was licenser. The office of 
Ikenaer, abolished by Cromwell, was restored by act of parliament in 16GB. The press 
was placed, with reference to its diflbrent productions, under the judges^ the officers 
of state, and the archbishop of Canterbury. Poetiy fell within the province of the 
latter. ▼. Bymmona's Life, p. 581. Mr. C. Lofft says, * That no manuscript of the 
Faradise Lost has been discovered, except that of the first book copied for the press, 
with the imprimatur of the archbishop's chaplain, but where this Is to be seen is not 
mentioned.' Bee Lofft's Pref. to Milton, p. i. and Newton's Pref. p. liv. 

17 Bee Introduction to Pickering's edition, p. xii. and Todd's Life (first ed.) p. 190, 
for an account of the varuUions in the poem and titles. Mr. Loflt observes that 1667 was 
a great year in the annals of our history ; for not only was Paradise Lost published, but 
there was a * Statute passed for the employment of poor prisoners,' and a * great step 
made in the art of dressing wool.' p. zziv. Of the eflTect of the»e diffbrent circumstances 
towards establishing the name and character which Britain holds among the nations, it 
is difficult to form an idea of any degree of proportionate extent ; ^ adequate is im* 
possible. It opens a vast arena in the boundless space of human perfectibility. v» 
Bemarka by Tench Coxe. * These clustering radiations of moral light may unite man- 
kind to the intelligence of otktr tystm* unnumbered and unimagined ;' which circum- 
■tance, if it come to pass, will open new markets for the wool trade, and be of great 
advaatafB to the publlsben of Paradise Lost.—* Go thy ways, Capel, the flower and 
qolatassance of an edlton.* 

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ment; for which the receipt was signed April 26, 1669. The 
second edition was not given till 1674, and was printed in small 
octaYO, and the number of books was increased to twelve, by 
a division of the seventh and twelfth, with the introduction of 
a few connecting lines. He did not live^^ to receive the pay- 
ment stipulated for this impression. The third edition was pub- 
lished in 1678, and his widow agreed with Simmons the printer 
to receive eight pounds as her right, and gave him a general 
release, dated April 29, 1681. Simmons covenanted to transfer 
the right for twenty-five ponnds to Brabazen Aylmer, a book- 
seller, and Aylmer sold to Jacob Tonson half of it, August 17, 
1683, and the other half March 24, 1690, at a price consider- 
ably advanced. 

The sale, Johnson says, will justify the public : the call for 
books i^ Milton's age was not great. The nation had been 
satisfied, from 1623 to 1664, with only two editions of the works 
of Shakespeare, which probably together did not make a thou* 
sand copies.i^ ^i^^ g^^ Qf thirteen hundred copies in two 
years was an unconunon example of the prevalence of genius. 
Yet the demand did not immediately increase, for in eleven 
years only three thousand were sold : but the reputation and 
price of the copy still advanced; 'till the revolution put an end 
to the secrecy of love, and Paradise Lost broke into open view 
with sufficient security of kind reception.' 

Though the poem of Milton was above^® the age on which it 
was bestowed (for such greatness of invention, such harmony 

U For an account of tbe editions, see C. Loffl*g Preface, p. xxxv. Ixl. and Todd's 
Idfe, p. 189—317. Tbe number of lines in Paradise Lost amount to 10,5G5. Dr. Sym- 
mons says that Milton lived to receive tbe whole fifteen pounds for which he had stipu- 
lated i but see Todd's Life (first ed.) p. 109. Concerning the plagiarisms of Callender 
(who published the fizst book of Milton, 1750) Irom the Commentary of Patrick Hume, 
1695, see Blackwood's Mag. No. xxiv. p. 659. 

M Johnson, however, should have remembered that large impressions of Shakespeare's 
Plays were always attainable, in a separate and more commodious form, In 4to. 

90 The poets, cbntemporary with Milton, were Waller, Suckling, Crashaw, Denham, 
Lovelace, Cowley, Brome, Sherborne, Fanshaw, Davenant, besides those of inferior 
note. " Never any poet left a greater reputation behind him than Mr. Cowley, whlltf 
Bfilton remained obscure, and known but to few ; but your grace knows very well that 
the gnat reputaticn iff Qneleff did net continue heUf a century, and that Milton's is now on 
9 of the temple of fhme." Dennis's Letters Familiar, Ibc. p. 5207. 

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of numbers, and snch majesty of style had not then been seen 
anhed) ; yet admirers among men of learning and genius it 
undoubtedly had. Andrew Marvell and Barrow, the physi- 
cian,^^ wrote some manly and spirited verses in its praise. 
Dryden's lines of commendation are known to all ;^ and praise 
in other books by authors of lower fame, has been discovered 
by the diligence of the-comroentators. In 1688,^ the handsome 
folio edition was published under the patronage of Lord Somers, 
and with the assistance of Atterbury^ and Dryden ; in 1662, it 
was translated into Dutch, and into Latin in 1685 ; and ten 
years after, it appeared with a very curious and learned com- 
mentary by Patrick Hume, I shall here take the opportunity 
of mentioning the volumes published by Lauder, ' Auctorum 
Miltono facem pnelucentium ;' and of remarking (after having 
perused the poems which they contain) that little doubt can be 
entertained, but that Milton was acquainted with the Adamus 
Exsul of Grotius, and probably with, the poetry of Ramsay and 
Masenius. Those who are curious on the subject may compare 
the poems of Ramsay with the description of the creation in the 
seventh book, and the drama of Grotius with the temptation in 
the ninth ; and, if familiar with the language of Milton, they 
will find some resemblances ; but the charge of plagiarism was 
unjust, and indeed absurd. Milton's immense reading extended 

SI "Hie following couplet in Marvell hu wonderfully puzzled the commontatora : 

* I too tnui8p<Mted by the mode offend, 
And while I meant to praise thee, must commend.* 

Bee Loflt*a Bfflton, p. zlvi. Hi. where * most commend,* * miscomroend,' * bat eommend,' 
are offered ; wiMrsas the sense is perfectly clear. * While I meant to praise thee, mast 
commend ;' i. e« must, for the take of the rhyme, use the word * commend,* instead of 
* praise,' which is the word I should oUkerwiM haoe n»ed. Even Bentley, In a MS. note 
in my copy, has erased ' must* and written * most.* 

32 Dryden owned to Dennis, * that when he adapted his state of innocence fh>m Mil- 
ton, he knew not half the extent of Milton's excellence.* ▼. Dtmtia^g Lttten, Moral 
md Critical, 1791, p. 75. 

S See Todd's Life, p. 196—809 : there were five hundred and thirty subscrihera. See 
a list of the most eminent of them in LofR's Milton, p. xlix. 

M Atterbury saW, <that he prepared the edition of Milton, nsnally called Xxird 
BomerB*8— firom a MS. note of his in an edition of MUtoo oat of tba Ubnuy of Waibar- 
ton.* T. JU*0r^wri*9 Warka, iv. p. 164. 


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over the whole field of literature, and in every direction ; and it 
required all his learning, collected by painful study during the 
best years of his life, long deposited in his memory, and re- 
moulded by his genius, to build up his immortal poem. Where 
is there an extensive work of established reputation to be found, 
that- is not evidently the result of long study, and assiduous 
labours 7 Let us consider that his materials were a few verses 
in Genesis, and that the rest is created by his 'own imagination, 
supplied ' by industrious and select reading.' Thus the tribu- 
tary stores from poets of every age and country were poured 
into his mind ; and they were always returned with augmented 
beauty and lustre.^^ We may say of him, as a Roman critic 
said of Virgil ; ' et judicio transferendi et modo imitandi con- 
eecutus est, ut quod apud ilium legerimus alienum, aut illius 
esse malimus, aut melius hie quam ubi natum est, sonare mire- 

An anecdote had long been current, which originally came 
from Richardson, that Sir John Denham came into the House of 
Commons with a sheet of Paradise Lost, wet from the press, in 
his hand, and being asked what it was, replied, ' Part of the noblest 
poem that was ever written in any age or language.'^^ Such is 
the facility with which anecdotes that amuse or surprise, pass 
current from mouth to mouth, that they need but a slender 
foundation to ensure belief. On examination, it was discovered 
that Denham was never in Parliament ; and consequently the 

V Natalii Donadsl Poema Herolcum de Bello Christi. Meflsann, 1614. Yen. 1616. 
Hoe vidit procul dublo In Italia MUtonas, nihil ex poesi «umtiiru8, at aliquid ex argu- 
mento, praiwitlm librl aecundi in poema magnum ubl loquitur 8atana«, aequentlum in 
alteram.' t. W. R. Landorl Poemata, p. 199. There ii a Latin translation of a Tragedy 
of Ben*!, by T. laoomotua, called * Abram tnm Morea, or Isaac Redeemed,* A. D. 
1507, which Hilton la iuppoaed to have aeen. v. SoUi$*s Memoirs, p. 538. 

» y. MaerobU Saturn, lib. vl. c. 1. 

S7 I poaaeiB a curioaa book, called a New Version of Paradise Loet, or Milton ponir 
phrased. In which the measoie and Tersification are corrected and harmonized, the 
olMeuritlea elucidated, and the faults remoyed, by a gentleman of Oxford (Mr. Green), 
In 1706. It is one of the most ludicrously absurd books that I ever read. He says thi^ 
ha has Introduced a novelty In this version, by iraeiMg thote Uiut that read best iogeUitr, 
hi imitadowqf CJki trifUis in rikysM. His notes are not less curloua than the text. My 
eopy belonged to some person as eccentric as the author, as appears by his MBS. notei 
In the margin. He has had the book lettered—" Milton travestied surely." 


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whole story is an ingenious fiction. I shall conclude mj 
remarks on the publication of the poem, by mentioning that in 
an original edition, belonging to some gentleman who com- 
municated the fact to the public, some rhyming lines were 
written apparently by a female hand, with these words at the con- 
clusion, dictated by J. M . Mr. Todd withholds his decision as 
to their authenticity, chiefly on account of the rhyme ; but Doc- 
tor Symmons, a less cautious critic, has no doubt of their being 
the production of Milton. The subject is * Daybreak,' and a 
short extract will be sufficient to enable the admirers of Milton 
to form their opinion. 

< WboM pale-faced RefBot, Cynthia, paler frowa, 
To Me lieneir punaed by conquering fbea, 
Yet daring stays behind to guard the rear 
Of her black armiee, whither without fear 
They may retreat, till her alternate couna 
Bring her about again with rallied force. 
Bark ! how the Lion's terror loud proclalmi 
The gladsome tidinp of day's gentle beams. 
And, long kept silence breaking, rudely wakee 
The fbather'd train, which soon their concert makes,' ^e. fsr 

Three years after Paradise Lost was given to the world, 
Milton published the History of England,^ comprising the fable 
of Tjeofirey of Monmouth, continued only as far as the Norman 
invasion. The first copies were mutilated by the licenser, who 
expunged all the passages that reflected on the conduct of the 
long parliament, and of the new church government. Toland 
has egregiously misrepresented the facts connected with this 
suppression. He called it an exposure of the superstition, pride, 
and cunning of the Popish monks in the Saxon times, and 

9r See Todd's Life, first ed. p. 91, for some lines called Lavlnia walking in a fWisty 
morning, p. 104 ; fbr a sonnet written at Chalfont, which the critics are willing to at- 
tribute to Hilton. The epigram in Fenton's collection must have come flrom a very 
dififerent inkstand. (Extempore on a Fsggot, p. SI86.) 

as Bftilton, m bis History of England, seems to have used Spenser's Chronicle of the 
British Kinp, as a kind of clue to direct him through so dark and perplexed a subject. 
He plainly copiea Spenser's order and disposition, whom he quotes ; and almost tran- 
scribes ftom him the story of Lear, of much however as the diflbrence between prose 
and verse will admit. Milton's History Is an admirable comment on this part of Spenser, 
which is taken from the first part of Hardyng*s Chronicle, v. Wmrtem sn ^sn s sr, 
II. p. MS. 


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stated that it was suppressed bj the licensers, because they 
thought what was said of the monks was meant to apply to 
Charles the Second's bishops, though it related solely to the 
republican assembly of divines; but, as tHe Bishop of Salis- 
bury^^ observes, Toland * very ill digested such an account of 
the liberty and religion of his favourite republic/ Milton gave 
a copy of these remarks to the Earl of Anglesea, which were 
published in 1661, with a preface, and have since been inserted 
in their proper place. The six books which Milton executed 
'appeared in 1670. Of the passages then suppressed, but since 
1738 always accompanying the History, it appears that some 
learned persons have doubted the authenticity .^^^ This work 
has received, as is well known, the praise of War burton, who 
said, / It is written with great simplicity, contrary to his custom 
in his prose writings, and is the better for it. But he sometimes 
rises into a surprising grandeur in the sentiments and expres- 
sions, as at the conclusion of the second book ; I never saw 
any thing equal to this, but the conclusion of Sir Walter 
Raleigh's History of the World.' ^^ The third book opens with 
a comparison drawn between the unsettled state of the Britons, 
after the desertion of the Romans, and the condition of the 
country under Cromwell and the Presbyterian government. 
The parallel is forced into its place by the indignation of the 
writer ; and severely has he chastised the hypocrisy, the selfish- 
ness, the rapacity, the ignorance of the leaders, and the injus- 
tice and weakness of the government. He follows up his first 
blow at the ' statists,' by an equally powerful attack on the un- 
principled greediness and baseness of the Presbyterian clergy, 
* who execute their places like children of the devil, unfaith- 
fully, unjustly, unmercifully, and, where not corruptly, stupidly.' 

99 See * Protestant Union,* by T. Bargen, Bisbop of Salubary, p. zliL Richardson 
■ayi, * the caatrated part waa a aort of digression, and was expunged to avoid giving 
oflbnee to a party quite subdued, and whose faults the government was then willing to 
have forgotten.' See Life, p. xlvi. Mr. Hoflis's biographer (Archd. Blackbume) is as 
nnwilling as Toland to admit this passage in its real sense ; and most absurdly toma it 
•gainst the Pofitk clergy, v. Men. p. 494. 

» Bee Todd's Life of MUton, p. 810 ; and Dibdin'a Library Companion, p. 901 (18M.) 

>i See Birch's Life. p. Ixviii. 




The whole passage is written witlkeloqneiice, — ^facit indignatio 
▼ersam. In one part, he evidently alludes to himself,—^ They 
who were ever faithfuUest to their cause, and freely aided them 
in person and with their substance, when they durst not compel 
either, slighted and bereaved after their just debts, by greedy 
sequestrations, were tossed up and down after miserable attend- 
ance from one committee to another, with petitions in their 
hands, yet either missed the obtaining of their suit, or though 
it were at length granted (more shame and reason ofrtimes ex- 
torting frt>m them at least a show of justice), yet, by their se- 
questrators and subcommittees abroad, men for the most part 
of insatiable bounds and noted disloyalty, these orders were 
commonly disobeyed,' 6lc. This is part of the passage that 
was suppressed by the licenser in 1670, and was first separately 
printed in 1681. 

In 1671, Milton published Paradise Regained and SanuKm 
Agonistes.^ The former poem he showed to his friend Elwood. 
' This,' said he, ' is owing to you, for you put it into my head, 
by the questions you put to me at Chalfont, which otherwise I 
had not thought of.' When it was accounted inferior to the 
Paradise Lost, Philips says, ' he could not hear with patience any 
such thing when related to him.' It appears to me, that these 
poems are so dissimilar in their structure und purpose, that no 
comparison can be usefully or justly instituted between them 
That the Paradise Lost excels in variety of invention, in splen- 
dour of imagery, in magnificent thoughts and delineations, and 
in grandeur and sublimity of description, no doubt can be en- 
tertained ; but the latter poem is finished with equal care, and 
as perfect in another style ; the reasoning clear, the argument 
close and weighty, the expression most select and chosen, the 
versification harmonious, differing in structure from that of the 
former poem, but admirably in unison with the subject. The 
language, as in the poetry of Lucretius, always moves closely 
with the argument, and waits attentively upon it; plain and 

n LanglMine obwrvM, that Dryden has tranafeRed Myeial tfaoog^its from Baaliqn 
Afonlstefl to Ua Aiuwngsebe. See Dram. Foeta, p. 157. 370. 
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rxxxii iAFE OF MILTON. 

simple, where plain sense and simple sentiments only were 
required ; while there are not wanting passages that, rising into 
the greatest beauty, and* adorned with the richest fancy, it 
would be difficult to surpass even in Paradise Lost. There is 
a severe and noble beauty in the structure and expression of 
the dialogue, that has always appeared to me to have imbibed 
the spirit of the Grecian stage, as felt- in the most perfect and 
finished of its productions ; where the boldest conceptions, and 
the most refined beauties, are all seen in strict harmony with 
the progressive developement of the plan, all contributing to the 
necessary uniformity of impression, and all obedient to the con- 
trol of the poetic mind that created them. That the name of 
this poem should differ so widely from its argument, and that 
Paradise should be regained by the temptation in the wilderness 
alone, I do not know, except firom the peculiarity of Milton's 
religious opinions, how satisfactorily to explain.^^ It is sup- 
posed that it was written while he was at Chalfont, though not 
published tiU five years ailer. Of the Samson Agonistes it 
must be observed, that the plot is not skilfully arranged, and 
that many of the lyrical measures are totally destitute of any 
intelligible rhythm ; but it must ever be considered as one of 
the noblest dramas in our language. Its moral sentiment, its 
pathetic feeling, its noble and dignified thoughts, its wise and 
weighty maxims, its severe religious contemplations, clothed in 
rich and select language, and adorned with metaphor and 
figure, give a surprising elevation to the whole. Warburton 
considered it as a perfect piece, and as an imitation of the 
ancients, having, as it were, a certain gloominess intermixed 
with the sublime (the subject not very different, the fall of two 
heroes by a woman) which shows more serenely in his Paradise 
Lost.' It is creditable to the taste and judgment of Pope, that 
he did not adopt Atterbury's suggestion of reviewing and 

S3 See Niceron M6m. des Hommes III. torn. x. p. U. p. 110. It was the doctrine of 
Peter Lombard, and tbe old divines, that the immediaU consequence of Christ's victoiy 
over the temptation in the wilderness, was the diminntlon of the spiritual power, and 
the previously allowed dominion of Satan on tbe earth. 

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poLiBbing this piece. Samson would have been twice shorn of 
hb locks, and sunk into a modern son of Israel; and Pope 
would have failed on the same ground where his Master Dryden 
had fallen before him. 

To that multiplicity of attainments, and extent of compre- 
hension (says Johnson), that entitled this great author to our 
veneration, may be added a kind of humble dignity which did 
not disdain the meanest service in literature. The epic poet^ 
the controvertist, the politician, having already descended to 
accommodate children with a book of rudiments, now, in the 
last year of his life, composed a book of logic for the instruction 
of students in philosophy; and published * Artis Logics plenior 
institutio ad Petri Rami Methodum Concinnata.' Of this book 
there was a second edition called for in the following year : it 
has never been translated, and is the only production of Milton, 
that I confess I have never had the leisure or the curiosity to 

In 1673, his ' Treatise of true Religion, Heresie, Schism, 
Toleration, and what best means may be used against the 
growth of Popery,' was published. His principle of toleration 
is agreement in the sufficiency of scripture : and he extends it 
to all who profess to derive their opinions from the sacred 
writings.. > The Papists, appealing to other testimonies, are not 
to be tolerated ; for though they plead conscience, ' we have no 
warrant, he says, to regard conscience, which is not founded 
on scripture.' He considers a diligent perusal of the Bible as 
the best preservative against the error of the Popish church, 
and he warns men of all professions, the countryman, the trades*^ 
man, the lawyer, the physician, the statesman, not to excuse 
themselves by their much business from the studious reading 
of the Bible. The object of Milton in this treatise was to form 
a 'general Protestant union' against the church of Rome, 
which he calls the * common adversary,' not by any compromise 
of the peculiar tenets of the Protestant sects, but by a liberal and 
comprehensive toleration grounded on the principle of making 
the Bible the rule of faith. * Error, he says, is not heresy,' and 


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he deteramies nothing to be heresy, but a wilful alienation from, 
or addition to the scriptures. God, he says, will assuredly par- 
don all sincere inquiries after truth, though mistaken in some 
points of doctrine ; and speaking of the founders, or reviewers 
of such opinions in past times, he adds, that God, having made 
no man infallible, hath pardoned their involuntary errors. Such, 
in the closing evening of his life, were the last thoughts of a 
pious, a learned, and a powerful mind, on a question connected 
with the preservation of true religion ; a century and a half has 
closed, since this work was written against the * worst of super- 
stitions, and the heaviest of God's judgments, Popery,' and it 
has lately been republished by a most eminent and learned 
Prelate, to exhibit the solidity of its arguments, and to prove 
the unimpeachable piety of the author. 

In 1673, the same year in which the above-named treatise 
appeared, Milton reprinted his juvenile poems, with additions, 
and some few corrections, accompanied with the Tractate on 
Education. That his Latin poems were not received with 
greater applause by the foreign scholars, has always been mat- 
ter of astonishment to me. If some mistakes in quantity 
shocked the learning of Salmasius, or offended the taste of 
Heinsius,^^ we must recollect that they are but few and unim- 
portant, while they are well compensated by a vigour of expres- 
sion, a beauty of allusion, a fertility of imagery, and a truly 
poetical conception. Though Milton has formed his taste on 
the best models, and drawn his language from the purest sources, 
his poems are not faded transcripts, or slavish imitations of the 
ancients.3^ I know not where the scholars of the continent 

M T. Warton aayt that N. Halnshis had no taste In poetiy. I dlAr decidedly (Vom 
this opinion, flrom an intimate aoqnainUnee with his works. I affirm that there never 
was a commentator on the Latm poets of finer taste or happier skill. Bentley over and 
over afaln calls him * elegantissfmus.' < Solertiasimo insenio— et critica et poetica laiide 
nobilia.* Burmaa Plenon (that admirable scholar), Wakefield, and others, bear the 
strongest testimony to his taste and skiU. De Puy says, * Heinslus delicatulas veneres, 
et lepores cum singularl virtute et doctrina coi^unxit.' v. Puteani Vitam, p. 140, 4to. 
His Latin poems are elegant and correct, but veiy inferior to Milton's in fertility of 1ft- 
▼entlon, and poetical feeling. 

» The poets of Great Britain who have excelled in the composition of Latin verse 
might be thos arrmnfsd: Bnchaaan, MUton, T. Bfay, Gray; and In the second 


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could hate gone tar more beautiful specimens of modern poetry 
than his First Elegy, and the Address to his Father ; and has 
Lucretius himself ever clothed the bare and meagre form of 
metaphysical speculations in a robe of greater brilliancy, or 
adorned it with more dazzling jewels of poetry than in the fol- 
lowing lines ? who, that reads the argument, could have antici- 
pated the change it underwent as it passed through the Poet's 

Dlefte, ■aeronim pneiides nemorum dec, 
Tuque, o noveni perbeata numlnii 
Hemoria mater, quteque In immeneo procal 
Antro recumbifl otioea JSternitaa, 
Moniimeata aervana, et lataa legea Jovia, 
CcBlique faatoe, atque epbemeridaa deCLm, 
Q,uia ille primua, cujut ex imagine 

Nalim aolen finxit liumanum leaaa, 

iEternua, inGorruptaa, squBvus polo, 

Ben aempiternua ille aldeniiii cornea 

CobU pererrat ordloea decempUda, 

(^timamve terria Incolit luns ^obum ; 

Bive inter animaa eorpua wUtnrai aedem 

Obitvkeaa torpet ad Letbea aquea ; 

Bive in remota forte terramm plaga 

Incedit, ingena bomlnia arcbetyput gigaa, 

Et ila tremendofl erigit ceiaam capat, 

Atlanta mejor pordtora aidenun. 

In 1674, the last year of his laborious and honourable life, 
he published his familiar letters in Latin ; to which he added 
some clever and pleasing academical exercises ; and his long 
and splendid list of contributions to literature ended with a 
translation of the Latin declaration of the Poles in favour of 
John the Third. Some doubts, however, have been entertained 
as to this translation having proceeded from the pen of Milton ; 
but as thej^ turn entirely on the internal evidence of the style, 
they can admit of no perfect solution.^^ 

order, Addiaoa, V. Boame, and Anatey. Cowley poaaesaed a flurility of veiaifleatlon, 
bat hie poetry la neither claaaieal In Iti conception, nor correct in ita execution. 

» Milton left in MS. a brief History of Moacovia, and of tbe other leea known 
eeantriea, lying eaatward of Rnaaia aa ftr aa Catliay, printed in 1G98. On hia tract 
concerning tbe milMa, IMSi, 4to. unnoticed by tbe biograpbera, eee Todd*a Lift, (flnl 


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Milton had long been a sufferer by the gont, which had now, 
with the advance of age, greatly enfeebled his constitation. 
Considering that his life was about to close,^ he informed his 
brother Christopher that he wished to dictate to him the distri*^ 
bution of liis property. He died by a quiet and silent expi- 
ration, on Sunday the 8th of NoYember,^^ at his house in Bun- 
hill Fields, in the sixtynsixth year of his age. He was buried 
next his father in the chancel of St. Giles, Cripplegate, attended, 
as Toland informs us, ' by all his learned and great friends in 
London, not without a friendly concourse of the vulgar.' 

The original stone laid upon the grave of Milton was removed 
not many years after his interment ; and no memorial of the 
Poet's fame existed in the church in which he was buried,^® till, 
by Mr. Whitbread's munificence, a marble bust, and tablet, 
recording the date of his birth and death were erected in the 
middle aisle. To the author of Paradise Lost a similar tribute 
of respect was paid in 1737, by Mr. Auditor Benson ; and his 
monument, adorned with a bust, was placed at the expense of 
that gentleman in Westminster Abbey. 

Thus was Milton's wish, though late, fulfilled : 

* nie meoi artiu lirenU morte boIuUw 
Cunrpt panra componi molliter uraa. 
Fonitan et nostros ducat de mannore valtm.* 

MoMnUj ver. 90. 

When the inscription, written by Atterbury, to the memory 
of John Philips, was exhibited to Dr. Spratt, then Dean*of 
Westminster, he refused to admit it, because the Poet was said 

ed.) p. 1SI7. In a.coUection of pMma by C. GUdoo, 169S, ISmo, p. 93, Ib JuUl Mazarini 
CardinaUa epitapblam, aactore Joanne Milton, v. State Poemi, i. 56. Mr. Godwin, in 
hla Life of Philipa, p. 190, has mentioned a poem attributed to Biilton, in State Poema, 
1697, in which i»— * Noah be d— d.> 

B7 ( He would be very cheerftil even in his (oute fitta, and sing : He diad of the goiite 
struck in, the 9 or 10 November, 1674, as appears by his "Apothecaries' books.*'* 
A^krtf, LetL iil. 449. 

8B Johnson says, about the 10th of November, and Mr. Hayley on the 15th ; but Mr. 
Todd has ascertained the exact date from a reference to the register of St. Giles's, Crip- 

<• On the disinieiment of the Mppo$ed coiBn and corpse of Bfilton, in August, 1790, 
see the Pamphlet of P. Neve, Esq. and Todd's Life, p. 139. See also Appendix. 


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to be ' soli Miltono secundus.' This anecdote was related to 
JohnsoQ by Dr. Gregory. * Such has been the change of opinion/ 
he added, ' that I have seen erected in the church the statue of 
that man, whose name I once knew considered as a pollution 
of its walls.' 

Milton, in his youth, is said to have been eminently hand- 
some. He was called the Lady of his college.^ His com- 
plexion was fresh and fair.'*^ His hair, which was of a light 
brown, was parted in front, and hung down upon his shoulders. 
He was of a moderate stature, or rather below the middle size. 
His eyes were of a grayish colour ; and when he was totally 
deprived of sight, he says that they did not betray the loss. 
His voice and ear were musical. He was vigorous and active, 
delighting in the exercise of the sword. Of his figure in his 
declining days, the following sketch has been left by Richard- 
son. — ^An ancient clergyman of Dorsetshire, Dr. Wright, found 
John Milton in a small chamber hung with rusty green, sitting 
in an elbow chair, and dressed neatly in black ; pale, but not 
cadaverous; his hands and fingers gouty, and with chalk-stones. 
He used also to sit in a gray coarse cloth coat, at the door of 

40 EUmasiui nys <Ta quern oUm Itali ptofiBrnkA babnerant.' Salmai. Sesp. p. 83. 
In bis PioliiiioiMia Aead. p. I3B, he aayt of htmaelf; * A quibudam andlvi, nuper 

41 On the portraits of MUton conault Todd*8 Life (second ed.), p. S3!MM0. ; to which 
I add, that I once saw a portrait of Hilton at Lord Braybrooke's, Audley-End, in tlie 
^lery (with a beard) ; that I also saw one of him, when yoong, at Lord Townahend's 
at Rainham, but many years (such yean ! !) have passed, and I cannot recollect any 
particulars. Charles Lamb, Esq. po asessea an original portrait, left by his brother, and 
accidentally bought in London. Could a portrait of Milton be in worthier hands ?— Con* 
suit also T. Warton*8 Milton, p. 331. As regards his portrait by W. Marshall, prefixed 
to his Poems (and which Salmasins did not dislike), he says, in his Defenslo contra 
Mmum, (Tn efllgiem mihi dissimilimam prasfixam Poematibus vidistl. Egovero si 
impubu et ambltione Ubrarii, me imperito Seulplori, proptereA quod in nrbe alius eo- 
tempore belli non erat, in fabrl scalpendum permisi, id me neg^ezisse potins earn rem 
arguebat, cujus tu mihi nimlum cultom objicis.* ▼. Prose Works, v. p. 309. But Morus 
had drawn a diflbrent conclusion. < An deformitatem tibi vitio Terterem, qui htOmn 
etiam credidl mazlme, postqiiam, tuis jmq/Szam Poemai^iu eomptultm ieamem illam vidi ?* 
Balmasius reproaches him with the loss of his beauty. < Malo isto magnam partem tua 
pulchfitudinis deperiisse, pro eo ac debeo, doleo : nam in oculis maxima viget ac valet 
formBdecns, quid Itali nunc dicerent, si te riderent cum ista tua feda lippitudine.* 
flalmas. Besp. p. 15. I have heard that an origfaial portrait of Milton (about thirty yeara 
of afB) has been discovered by Mr. R. Lemon of the State Paper Offlce. 


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Izxzviii UFE OF MILTON. 

his house near Bunhill Fields, in warm sunny weather, to enjoy 
the fresh air. And so, as well as in his room, he received the 
visits of people of distinguished parts, as well as quality.^ 

His domestic habits were those of a severe and temperate 
student. He drank little wine, and fed without any luxurious 
delicacy of choice. In his youth, he studied till midnight ; hut, 
warned by. the early decay of sight, and his disordered health, 
he afterwards changed his hours, and rested in bed^^ fj^om 
nine till four in summer, and five in the winter months. If at 
these hours he was not disposed to rise, he had a person by 
his bedside to read to hiro.^ When he had risen, he had a 
chapter in the Hebrew Bible read to him, and then studied 
till twelve. He then took some exercise for an hour in his gar- 
den, dined, played on the organ, and either sang himself, or 
made his wife sing, who had a good voice, though not a musical 
ear. He then again studied till six ; entertained his visitors^^ 
till eight ; and supped upon olives, or some light thing ;^^ and 
after a pipe of tobacco, and a glass of water, went to bed. That 
Milton and his wife used to dine in the kitchen, as appears in 
the affidavit of their maid-servant, Mary Fisher, I suppose might 

« Ricbmrdaon'i Life of Milton, 1734, p. iv. 

43 The bed on which Milton died wu given by Mr. Hollia to Akennde the poet, who 
wai delighted with the present. See HoUia'e MemoirB, p. lis. 

44 Milton liad taught hla two younger daughtejre to pronounce exactly the Hebrew, 
Oreek, Latin, Italian, Spanish, and French, without understanding the meaning of the 
languages. This at length became so Irksome, Uiat, on their expressing their uneasiness, 
they were sent out to learn embn^dery, dtc. Elwood, Ed. Philips, and Skinner read to 
him. He used to say, in his daughters* hearing, that one tongue was enough for a 
woman. ▼. Pliilips* Life, p. 48. 

45 t He was visited by the learned, much more than he did desire.* v. Aubrey, Lett, 
iii. p. 443. ' Foreigners came much to see him, and admired him, and ofibred to him 
p«at preferments to come over to them ; and the only inducement of several foreigners 
that came over, was to see O. Protector and Mr. J. Milton : and wquld see the kauf 
and chamber where he was bom. He was much more admired abroad than at home.* 

4t It was when he was infirm and sick, that he addressed his wife, as Mary Fisher 
tails us she overlieard, * Who having provided something for deceased's dinner which 
he very well liked, he spake to his said wife these or the like words, as near as this 
deponent can remember : " God have mercy, Betty, I see thou wilt perform according 
to thy promise, in providing me such dishes as I think fit while I live ; and when I die, 
thou knowest I have left thee aU.** * Milton had two servant^naids, Mary and EUza- 
bethFlaher. SeehisWUI. His man-servant was B Green. See Milton's Agreement 
in the Appendix 


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LIFE OF MILTOlf . kzxix 

be owing to the homely and simple custom of the times among 
plain people, and cannot be adduced as a mark of poverty or 

He composed much in the night and morning, and dictated 
in the day, sitting obliquely in an elbow chair, with his leg 
thrown over the arm. Fortune, as Johnson observes, appears 
not to have had much of his care. He lost, by different casual- 
ties, about four thousand pounds : yet his wants were so few, 
and his habits of life so unexpensive, that he was never reduced 
to indigence. He sold his library before his death,^^ and left 
his widow about fifteen hundred pounds. Fenton says, * Though 
he abode in the heritage of oppressors, and the spoils of the 
country lay at his feet, neither his conscience nor his honour 
could stoop to gather them.' 

It has been agreed by all, that he was of an equal and cheer- 
ful temper, and pleasing and instructive in conversation. His 
daughter said, ' her father was delightful, company, the life of 
the conversatimi ; and thatf on account of a flow of subject, 
and an unaffected cheerfulness and civility.' Richardson says, 
' that Milton had a gravity in his temper, not melancholy, or not 
till the latter part of his life ; not sour, nor morose, or ill natured, 
but a certain serenity of mind, a mind not condescending to 
little things :' and Aubrey adds, ' that he was satirical.' 

His literature was unquestionably immense ; his adversaries 
admitted that he was the most able and acute scholar living. 
With the Hebrew, and its two dialects, he was well acquainted ; 
in the Greek, Latin, Italian, French, and. Spanish languages, 
he was eminently skilled. In Latin, his knowledge was such, 
as to place him in the first rank of writers and critics. His 

V B»iM Mid to have borrowed fifty ponnde of Jonathan Eaitop of Aldboroogh in 
Torkthlre, who died in 1791, at the ag» of 138. He returned the loan with honour,, 
thoogh not without much difficulty, ai hit circumatances were very low. Mr. Hartop 
would have declined receiving it, but the pride of the Foot waa equal to hia geniua, and 
be lent the money with an angry letter, which waa found among the euriottfl poaaeasiona 
of the venerable old man.> Bee Eaaton'a Human Longevity, p. 941. Toland laya, 
* towarda the hater part of hia time he eoutrooed hia library, both because the heirs he 
Ml could not make a right uae of it, and that he thought be might leU it more to their 
advantage than they could be able to do tbemaelvea.* v. Lift, 140. 

VOL. I. M 




Italian sonnets have been praised even by Italians. He himself 
relates that his round of study and reading was ceaseless; 
and that his life had not been unexpensive in learning and 
voyaging about. The classical books, in which he most 
delighted, were Homer, whose two poems, Toland says, he 
could almost repeat without book, Ovid's* Metamorphoses, and 
Euripides ; his copy of the latter poet, with some critical obser- 
vations in the margin, is now, I believe, in the possession of Sir 
Henry Halford.t Lord Charlemont possessed his Lycophron, 
in which some critical remarks were made. As a further proof 
of the diligence and exactness with which he read books of not 
common occurrence, I shall mention, that I have seen a copy 
of the Sonnetti of Varchi that belonged to him, in which the 
most curious expressions, and the more poetical passages were 
underlined, and marked with extraordinary care. He is said 
to have read Plautus repeatedly, in order * to rail with more 
choice phrase at Salmasius.' Plato and Demosthenes are sup* 
posed to have been his favourite authors in Greek prose ; and 
among the Roman historians, he has decreed to Sallust^ the 
palm of superiority. His skill in Rabbinical literature, in which 
he has not been followed by his commentators, was unusually 
great. Of the English poets, it is said he set most value <mi 
Spenser, Shakespeare, and Cowley. Spenser^^ was apparently 
his favourite. Johnson seems surprised at his approbation of 
Cowley, a poet whose ideas of excellence are so different from 
his own; these are facts for which it is difficult to account; 
Scaliger preferred Statins to Virgil ; and who would have sup- 

• Debofrah, hia dangbter, Infonned Dr. Ward, that * Isaiah, Homer, and Grid, were 
woffcs which they were oAen caUe^ to read to their ikther.' In his Proluiiones, p. 81, 
be calla < Ovidlue poetanim ele^ntlssimae.* 

t T. Walton has traced this book ftom its poeseasor, Bishop Haie, in 1740, to Mr. Cra^ 
dock, who bequeathed it to Sir Henry Halford. See his Hilton, p. 508. See some letters 
concerning it in Cradock*8 Memoirs, vol. iv. p. 137—140. 

« See his Latin Letters (ed. 1674), p. 53. 

l» < Milton acknowledged to me that Spenser was his original.' ▼. Dryden*s Pref. to 
his Fables, p. xx. and Ded. to Juvenal, p. 196. Pearoe says, * that he could point out to 
Bentley, « a hundred words (I belieTe) in Milton to be met with in no autbor befora 
blm.»»» ▼.p.196. 


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posed that Rubens could have said, if he were not Rubens, he 
would wish to be Poelemberg ? 

That Milton read the works of those dramatic poets who 
were the contemporaries or successors of Shakespeare, is evi- 
dent, from his haying transplanted some of their beautiful 
expressions into his works : and he mentions in his Apology for 
tSmectymnus, that he was much enamoured of romances in his 
youth. His character of Dryden was, that he was a good 
rhymist, but no poet ; for we may well suppose that the charms 
of Dryden's poetry possessed few attractions for his mind. 
There was nothing in it lofty or imaginative enough for one, 
who had been used to delight in richer creations of fancy, to 
listen to wilder melodies, to gaze upon more magnificent visions^ 
and to repose amid the bowers of paradise. In Dryden's pages 
of satire, and in his pictures of society, there were no visionary 
shadows, no gorgeous colours brought from fairy land, no harps 
or hallelujahs of adoring saints, no swellings of unearthly music, 
no purpureal gleams of passing wings, none of the glories of 
romance, and none of the terrors of the Apocalypse. 

The political opinions of Milton were those of a thorough 
republican, which Johnson thinks was founded on an envious 
hatred of greatness, and a sullen desire of independence. This 
conclusion is so uncharitable and unjust, that it must recoil 
with injury on him who made it. No one can read Milton's 
writings, or contemplate his life, without being persuaded that 
his first desire was the freedom, and, through that, the happiness, 
of his country. Other great and good men were republicans 
as well as Milton ; and who, amid the difficulties of those evil 
days, was to direct his line of conduct so clearly as to si^, that 
no other course could be pursued with innocence and safety ? 
I am not called upon to express an opinion as to the justice of 
&e cause which he espoused, but I am bound to vindicate his 
character from the charge of being influenced in his great 
patriotic exertions by any feelings but those of a good and ele- 
vated nature. Men of most enlightened minds, of most inflex- 
ible virtue, of the most devoted attachment to their country, 


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xcii LIFE O** ftOLTON. 

were seen opposed to each other in the senate and the field. 
There was a great and complicated question before them, the 
dangers and difficulties of which thickened as it advanced : 
good and brave men looked on it in different shades of sorrow 
or of hope, according to their tempers or habits of thought ; and 
that which Milton contemplated as the bright dawning of a more 
glorious day, came lowering with such clouds and darkness, as 
to sink the virtuous heart of Falkland even to despair. 

Harrington^^ had observed, ' that the troubles of the times 
were not to be attributed wholly to wilfulness or faction, neither 
to the misgovernment of the prince, nor the stubbornness of the 
people, but to a change in the balance of property, which, since 
Henry the Seventh's time, had been daily falling into the scale 
of the commons, from that of the king, and the lords :' thus, as 
a sensible and temperate writer observes, the opulence and in- 
dependence of the c<Hnmons tended to produce a popular gov- 
ernment, and the introduction of mercenary armies to aggran- 
dize the crown. Hence the contest between the king and the 
people, the one to extend his prerogative, the other to augment 
their privileges. The petition of rights collected the grievances 
of the nation into one view, and stated the acknowledged limits 
of the prerogative, and the undisputed rights of the people." 
Putting aside all favourite and partial views, and looking at the 
question with an equal indifference, it may be said, that ali must 
have seen the necessity of amending the manner in which the 
government was conducted : what wonder if some objected even 
to the ybrm ? The dispute, in fact, as Dr. Balguy observes, was 
a conflict between governors who ruled by will, not by law, and 
subjects who would not suffer the law itself to control their 
actions. Milton might have despaired (for he had no example 
at home before him) of seeing that limited and legal monarchy, 
which we never possessed till the reign of the Stuarts had passed 
away; and which for the first time erected the safety of the 
throne on the secured liberty of the subject, and the inviolable 
sanctity of the laws. Periods like the one we are contemplating, 

W See Baznet** Introd. to MIltonHi Preee Worln, 1. p. 9. 


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occasionally recurring^ and long and secretly prepared, produce, 
when they arrive, great ferment and desire of change in the 
minds of men : nor must we too severely blame those who, in 
the ardour of hope, aspire to a perfection that human institutions 
have never reached, and who, disgusted with the real abuses of 
the past, would turn to the imaginary advantages of the future. 
Milton wished for a republic, best securing, as he thought, the 
liberty and happiness of the people : great then was his indig- 
nation, when he saw the Presbyterian synod throw away surplice 
and cope, and yet put on all but the old Episcopal robes ; and 
the man of * little less than divine virtue,' the father of his 
country, the leader of her armies, the most glorious of her citi- 
zens, the founder and protector of her liberty ; him who had 
d^ised the name of king for majesty, yet more majestic ;* 
whom God manifestly favoured, that he was in all things his 
helper ! when he saw this bold imperious usurper put off the 
Puritan's cloak, lay down his battered breast-plate, and, ' stepping 
on the neck of crowned fortune,' take possession of the empty 
throne. He hated popery, as it was slavish, ignorant, anti- 
christian, and idolatrous : deep therefore was his sorrow, when 
he spoke of the dissoluteness of a returning court, of a queen 
in most likelihood outlandish and a Papist, and a queen mother 
with their sumptuous court, and numerous train. In disap- 
pointment and disgust he turned away Grom sights like these, to 
contemplate the example of the United Provinces, which he 
calls a potent and ilouri^ing republic ! 

The biographers of Milton, when speaking of his family, have 
mentioned his brother Christopher, and his sister Anne. It 
appears by a more diligent inquiry, that the names of two other 
sisters, Tabitha and Sarah, are mentioned in the baptismal 
register, and the death of Sarah only is recorded. Christopher 
was a royalist, and after his brother's death became a judge. 
In the rebellion he compounded for his estate, the fine levied 
upon him being two hundred pounds. He long resided at 

* Such axe the expressions used relating to Cromwell, and the titlee given to him bf 
MUton, In the Second Defence, &^. 

Digitized by VjOOQ IC 


Ipswich, and in a neighbouring village, and was buried in the 
porch of St. Nicholas, in March, 1692. He was knighted bj 
James the Second. Philips says of him that he was a person 
of a modest and quiet temper, preferring justice and virtue 
before all worldly pleasure and grandeur, but that in the begin- 
ning of the reign of James the Second, for his known integrity 
and ability in law, he was by some persons of quality recommended 
to the king, and at a call of Serjeants received the coif, and the 
same day was sworn one of the Barons of the exchequer; 
and soon after made one of the judges of the Common Pleas : 
but his years and indisposition not well brooking the fatigue of 
public employment, he continued not long in either of these 
stations, but, having his ' duietus est,' retired to a country life, 
his study and devotion. This is the person whom Dr. Symmons 
calls an ' old dotard.' Toland's account of him certainly is less 
favourable : he says, " that he was of a very superstitious nature, 
and a man of no parts or ability, and that James, wanting a set 
of judges that could declare his will to be superior to our legal 
constitution, appointed him one of the Barons of exchequer.*' 
His sister Anne was married first to a Mr. Philips, and after his 
death to a Mr. Agar : by her first husband she had two sons, 
Edward and John, whom Milton educated, who were persons 
of cleverness and learning, and both of whom were authors. 
Edward's affection and respect for his uncle is displayed in 
every page of his biography. Milton had children only by his 
first wife; and three daughters, Anne, Mary, and Deborah 
were the fruits of his marriage.* Anne, though deformed, 
married, and died in childbed. Mary died single. Deborah, 
the youngest, married Abraham Clark, a weaver, in Spitalfields, 
and lived seventy-six years to August, 1727. This is the 
daughter of whom public mention is made. She could repeat 

• Dr. Birch tnnKribed Uie registry of the birth of Milton'f children fh>m his own 
writing, in a blank leaf of his wife*t Bible j his ion John was bom on Saturday, March 
16, 1650. His three daughters each received £100 as their fortune, from their stepmother 
Elizabeth, and the three receipts bearing their three signatures were B<rid among the 
books and manuseripls of James Boswell, Esq. in. 1835. See also Mr. Todd*s LUb,( fint 
ed.) p. 188, note. 


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the first lines of Homer, of the Metamorphoses, and some of 
Euripides, from having often heard them. To her Addison 
made a present, and queen Caroline sent her a purse of fifty 
guineas. She is reported to have been the favourite of her 
father ; though, in consequence of a disagreement with her step* 
mother, three or four years before Milton's death, she left his 
house, and went to reside with a lady named Merian in Ireland. 
On being shown a portrait which strongly resembled Milton, she 
exclaimed with transport, 'Tis my father I 'tis my dear father I^^ 
When she was introduced to Addison, he said, * Madam, you 
need no other voucher, your face is a sufficient testimonial 
whose daughter you are.'^^ She appeared to be a woman of 
good sense, and genteel behaviour, and to bear the incon- 
veniences of a low fortune with decency and prudence. Milton 
says, in his will, that he spent the greatest part of his estate in 
providing for his children in his life time : I presume that he 
speaks of the expense of their education, and their maintenance 
on a separate establishment, while learning carious and ingenious 
sorts of manufacture,^' and embroidering in gold and silver. 
The story of their surreptitiously selling their father's books 
during his life, rests on the testimony of a maid-eervant alone, 
whom the biographers are disinclined to believe ; but that they 
were undutifnl and unkind children, careless of him when 
blind, and deserting him in his c^e, we have unfortunately the 
authority of Milton himself.^ 
The last known survivor of the Poet's family was Elizabeth, 

n It WM when FaittionteHi cnyon-dnwlng was ihown to her by Vertae the engraver, 
tbet she eried out, ' Oh Lord I th«t is the picture of my fhtfaer ! how came you hy It ?> 
and, stroking down the hair of her forehead, she snid, * JuaC so my ftther won his hafar.* 
▼. Todd's Milton, (second ed.) p. 937. 

B See Birch's Life, p. tunri. ; and see a letter flbm Yeitne the engraver, to Mr. Chris- 
tian (Aug. 12, 1791,) in Gent. Mag. May, 1831, p. 419. 

n ( Anne Milton Is lame, but hath a tndef and can live by the same, which is the 
making of gold and silver lace, and which the deceased brad her up to.' Ellz. Fisher's 

M See Todd's Lift, p. 990. Fhilips>s life, p. Izvi. ed. Pickering. It appeals that his 
daughters lived quite apart from their ftther the last four or five yean of his life ; and 
tlist he knew little about them, nor whether they ftequented ekmrck or not. See GhHa- 
topher MilUm's Deposition, p. 974, ed. Todd. 


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the daughter of this Deborah Clark,^ who married Thomas 
Foster, a wearer, id Spitaliields. She kept a small chandler's 
shop near Shoreditch Church. In 1750, April 5th, Comus was 
played for her benefit. The profits of the night were only a 
hundred and thirty pounds.^ Of this sum, says Johnson, 
twenty pounds were given by Tonson, a man who is, to be 
praised as often as he is named; one hundred pounds were 
placed in the funds, the rest augmented their little stock, with 
which they removed to Islington. Johnson closes his Life of 
Milton by informing us that he had the honour of contributing 
the Prologue to the play. Mrs. Foster died, aged 66, in the 
year 1754.*^ 

It only now remains to give a short account of a Treatise of 
Theology, bearing the name of Milton, lately discovered. 
Toland, in his Life of Milton, had informed us that he compiled 
a system of divinity, but whether intended for public view, or 
collected merely for his own use, he could not determine ; and 
Aubrey affords further particulars, by mentioning that Milton's 
Idea Theologie was in manuscript in the hands of Mr. Skinner, 
a merchant's son in Mark Lane. Wood mentions Cyriack 
Skinner as the depository of this work, which he calls * The 
Body of Divinity,' at that time, or at least lately, in the hands 
of Milton's acquaintance Cyriack Skinner. It is well known 
that this treatise was discovered, with the name of Milton 
attached to it, by Mr. Lemon, in the State Paper Office, a few 

65 Caleb Clark, faer son, was parish clerk of Madras. Hla chUdf«n were the Uat 
descendants of the Poet, but of them nothing forUier is known. Dr. Birch narrates the 
conversation he held with Mrs. Foster, who told him that MiJton*s second wife did not 
die in chUdbed, as Philips and Toland assert, but about three months aAer, of a con- 
sumption. V. p. Ixxvii. 

M The above account by Dr. Johnson Is not quite correct. The receipts of the house 
were £147. lis. 6d. from which £80 were deducted for expenses. Such is the sutement 
of Mr. Is. Reed. Some accounts of circumsunces that led the public attention towards 
Milton's g^nddauthter may be seen in Hollis's Mem. p. 116. An advertisement of 
Johnson's first sngi^ttiited some plan of relief. 

fr * On Thursday last, May 9, 1754, died at Islington, In the 66th year of her age, after 
a long and painftil illness, which she sustained with Christian fortitude and patlenoe, 
Mis. Eltcabetb Foelar, grtnddatifhter ef Milton.' This paragnpii firam a contemponqr 
newspaper, is pieserved in the Bfemoin ofT. HoUis, ▼. L p. 114. 


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yean siiice. It appears, that Mr. Daniel Skinner commenced 
a correspondence with the celebrated Elzevir the printer at 
Amsterdam, on the subject of the State Letters, and the Theo- 
logical Treatise of Milton. Skinner was at that time fellow of 
Trinity Coliege, Cambridge. Of the Letters, and of the first 
one hundred and ninetj-six pages of the Treatise, he had been 
Hhe copyist. He is supposed also to have been one of those 
whom Milton had daily about him to read to him. On inspection 
of the manuscript, Elzevir was alarmed at the freedom of the 
political and theological opinions advanced in it, and declined 
printing it. Skinner took away the manuscript, which had by 
this time attracted the attention of the government. Isaac 
Barrow, then master of Trin. Coll. sent a peremptory order to 
Skinner to repair immediately to college, and warned him 
against publishing any writing mischievous to the church and 
state. It is not known with exactness when Skinner returned 
to England, but he had an interview with Sir Joseph Williamson, 
secretary of state ; and it is supposed that he delivered up the 
manuscripts to him. The remainder of the treatise is written 
in a female hand, the same which transcribed the sonnet, 

Bfethopght I nw my late Mpouwd aaint, 

BOW among the manuscripts at Cambridge, and this scribe is 
supposed to have been his daughter Mary or Deborah. This 
part of the volume is interspersed with interlineations and cor* 
rections in a different and unknown hand. The whole treatise 
reposed on the shelves of the old State Paper Office in White- 
hall till the year 1828, when Mr. Lemon, the Deputy Keeper, dich 
covered it, loosely wrapped up in two or three sheets of printed 
paper, which proved to be the proof sheets of Elzevir's Horace 
The State I^etters were in the same parcel, and the whole was 
inclosed in a cover directed to Mr. Skinner, Merchant. 
The title of the work is, ' De Doctrina Christiana,^ ex sacris 

B Thia traatlM wm wrftten In Latin ; he haa expreaaed legret that hta treatiaes on 
DiToree weie not written In the aame lanfoafe ; fat Milton never eoorted public, er 
Tulgar applauae ; hia inacription on the tracta he gave to Trin. Ooll. nnblin, apeaka Ma 
aenttmenta : < Faoela hi^ua modi lectoribna contentna.* 
yOL. I. N 


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dumtaxat libris petita, disquisitionum libri duo^ posthumi ;' but 
it is supposed to have been chosen after Milton's death, by those 
into whose possession the manuscript had ^sed. When it was 
discovered, it was placed in the hands of Dr. Sumner, then 
chaplain to his late majesty, by whom it was carefully edited ; 
and who also gave to the public a very elegant and exact trans- 

Milton, it seems, was dissatisfied with the bodies of divinity 
that were published, obscured by school terms and metaphysical 
notions, and * he deemed it safest, and most advisable, to compile 
for himself, by his own labour and study, some original treatise, 
which should be always at hand, derived solely from the word 
of God himself This work consists of two books, entitled 
' Of the Knowledge of God, and of the Service of God.' The 
first book is divided into thirty-three chapters, embracing men- 
tion of all the important doctrines of religious faith. The 
second book, consisting of seventeen chapters, includes a sum- 
mary of the Duties of Man ; and the work opens with a digni- 
fied and impressive salutation — " John Milton, to all the churches 
of Christ, and to all who profess the Christian faith, throughout 
the world, peace, and the recognition of the truth, and eternal 
salvation in God the Father, and in our Lord Jesus Christ" 

This treatise has fully proved, what had been partially and 
reluctantly suspected before, that Milton had, in his later years, 
adopted the opinions of Arianism ;^ and a minute inspection 
of his other works has shown their agreement, in sentiment and 
expression with this lamented heresy. It is generally allowed 
that this treatise is barren of recondite learning,^® or ingenious 

n Is it not eitraordinaiy that Dr. SymmoM ■hould •men that MUton*a theotogtcsl 
opinion! were orthodox, and eonalstent with the creed of the church of England ? 
< The peculiarity of Milton'a religioua opinions had reference to church government, 
and the external* of devotion.* v. Life, p. 589. Johnson asserts the same, but un- 
doubtedly he had not read MUton's works with that scrutiny and care, which have 
enabled later editon to discover the truth. Mr. Todd's words are a repetition of John- 
son's, which of coarse be will now recall. See Bishop of St. David's ed. of Milton on 
True Eeligion, p. 1. Trapp had asserted that P. I«. was * ex omnl parte ortbodoxttm,* 
or be would not have translated it. 

M Bee Todd's Life (second ed.)* p> 907. 


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disquisition ; and that it abounds more in schdastic subtleties 
than might be expected from one who was constantly censuring 
them in others ; but'lhat it is written in a tone of calmness and 
moderation, without any polemical fierceness, or personal hos- 
tility. Milton had sunk his animosities in the sanctity and 
importance of his subject; h^ was now discussing matters of 
much higher moment than the downfall of a ' luxurious hie- 
rarchy/ or the structure of particular churches. He was * teach- 
ing oyer the whole book of sanctity and virtue.' 

Milton, says one of his latest biographers, commenced his 
wanderings in religious belief, from Puritanism to Calyinism, 
from Calyinism to an esteem for Arminius, and finally from an 
accordance with the Independents and Anabaptists, to a dere- 
liction of eyery denomination of Protestants ; changes which 
were first detailed by Toland, and which, with the suspicion 
of his Arianism, haye not escaped the notice of a French 
writer. ' II ne faut pas etre surpris des principes erron6s de ce 
fougoux r6publicain en mati^re de religion, puisqu'il fiit de toutes 
les sectes, et qu'il finit par n'etre d'aucnne. Dans ses poemes 
6piques il parle de Jesus Christ en veritable Arien/^^ With 
regard to the eternal divinity of the Son, and the essential 
unity of the three divine persons of the Godhead, the learned 
editor of this volume has pointed out great and important con- 
tradictions even in Paradise Lost; and in Italy, it was on this 
ground, that under Benedict the Fourteenth, the poem was a 
Dook proscribed. 

The authenticity of this work has never, I believe, been 
questioned, but by the learned and venerable Bishop of Salis- 
bury,^ who has been anxious to establish the evidence of 

n * The Aiian and Sodnian u» char|)ed to dlqmto agalnal Oie Trinity, yet tbey afflim 
to believe the Father, Son, and Holy Ghoat, according to Scripture and the ApoatoUo 
Creed ; aa fortbe terme of Trinity, Trinnity, Coewentiality, Tripenonality, and the like, 
they rejea them aa scholastic nofiona, not to be found in Scripture.* ▼. Treatlee of 
Tme Reli^on } V Toland*a Life, p. 145. 

a See Froteatant Union, a Treatlne on True Religion, dec. by J. Milton, with a 
preftce on Mllton*e religious principles, and unimpeachable sincerity, by Thomas Bur- 
gess, Bishop of Salisbury, 1896, 8vo. who consideza that Milton, and the Latin writer 
de DoctrinlL Christian^ aie at ▼arianoe on the sul^ect pf Popery. ▼. p. xxzr. 


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Milton's orthodaxy ; and consequently has found it necessary to 
deny the genuineness of a work that has spread into the widest 
Latitudinarian principles ; but it has been maintained by Mr. 
Todd, according to my opinion, with sound and forcible argu- 
ments ; and to his work, conjointly with Dr. Sumner's preface, 
the reader is referred for information too copious to be trans- 
ferred into the present narrative. It is well known, that, in the 
latter part of his life, Milton frequented no place of public wor- 
ship ; and Bishop Newton has given various conjectures on the 
subject. It must, however, be remembered that he was old, 
blind, and infirm ; that he was hostile to the Liturgy of the 
established church, and at the same time not attached to any 
particular sect ; that he had decidedly and for ever separated 
from the Presbyterians ; that he never frequented the churches 
of the Independents ;^ and that his allowed liberty of belief 
hardly consisted with the tenets of any particular sect : but we 
are told that he never passed a day without private meditation 
and study of the Scriptures, and that some^^ parts of his family 
frequented the offices of public prayer. Knowing his religious 
opinions, and considering the great infirmities of his health, 
who could have expected more ? 

Toland^^ tells us, 'that in his early days he was a favourer of 
those Protestants, then opprobriously called by the name of 

O Toland tayi, * In hte middle yean he was beit pleajsed with Uie Independents and 
Anabaptists, as allowing of more liberty than others, and coming nearest, in kis opinion, 
to the primitlTe practice.* ▼. Life, p. 151. It la well known, that one of hi* bkii»- 
phers, Mr. Peck, considered him to be a < auaker.' 

9i See Richardson*s Life, and Arch. Biackbume's Remarks on Johnson** LHb of Mil- 
Ion, p. Ill, and p. 160; and Mr. Bo(»rfaadem*n Letter in Gent. Mag. Ootober, 1779. 
* Ask each wltneaae whether the parties minlstrant (his daughtera) were not, and are 
not great frequenters of the church and good livers.* ▼. MUton*s Will, ed. Todd, p. 

« See Life, p. 151. The measure* of Archh. Land, and the primtions of his exiled 
IHend and preceptor, T. Toung, appear firrt to have alienated him from the diteiplim 
Of the church ; averse to the footnmma of the church as then condocted, he became, 
■Qcceaaiveiy, Puritan, Presbyterian, and Independent; without retinquiahing his 
religious principle, for those sects were all TVfin'larMii in doctrine. Re thought them 
alt intolerant of one another, and Anally he left them all ; and, after his blindness, 
ceased to communicate with any public congregations of Christians. (See Bishop Bur- 
gess's Protestant Union, p. zxilL) But it appears that he did not think himself exclndad 
from the bleasing bestowed by God on the Okmnkm. Bee Book I. e. sdz 


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PuriUDA. In hk middle yean he ww best pleised with the 
Independentd and Anabaptists, as allowing of more liberty then 
others, and coming nearest, in his opinion, to the primitive prao 
tice. But in the latter part of his life he was not a professed 
member of any particolar sect among Christitos ; he frequented 
none of their assemblies, nor made use of their peculiar rites 
in his family. Whether this proceeded from a dislike of their 
uncharitable and endless disputes, and that love of dominioay 
or inclination to persecution, which he said was a piece of 
popery, inseparable from all churches, or whether he thought 
one might be a good man without subscribing to any party, and 
that they had all in some things corrupted the institutions of 
Jesus Christ, I will by no means adventure to determine ; for 
conjectures on such occasions are very uncertain, and I never 
met with any of his acquaintance who could be positive in 
assigning the true reasons of his conduct' 

Of this treatise, it is by all acknowledged, that it is wrifeteB 
with a calm and conscientious desire for truth, like that of a 
man who had forgotten or dismissed the favourite animositiet 
of his youth, and who had retired within himself, in the dignity 
of age, to employ the unimpaired energies of his intellect on 
the most important and awfiil subject of inquiry. The haugh* 
tiness of his temper, the fierceness of his scorn, the deftanoe of 
his manner, his severe and stoical pride, are no longer seen. 
He approaches the book of God with an humble and reverential 
feeling: and with such a disposition of piety, united to so 
powerful an intellect, and such immense stores of learning, 
who would not have expected to have seen the ' star-br^ht form' 
of Truth appear firom out the cloud ? but wherever we look, the 
pride of man's heart is lowered, and the weakness of humanify 
displayed. With all his great qualifications for the removal of 
error, and the discovery of truth, he failed. His views appear 
too exalted, his creed too abstract and imaginative, fi>r genera! 
use. The religion which he sought was one that was not to 
be attached to any particular church, to be grounded on any 
settled articles of belief, to be adorned with any external cere^ 


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monies, or to be illttstrated by any stated forms of prayer. It 
was to dwell alone in its. holy meditations, cloistered fix>m public 
gaze, and secluded within the humbler sanctuary of the adoring 
heart If the believer felt it to be his duty to attach himself 
to any particular church, that church was to be unconnected 
with the state. The ministers, if such were necessary, were 
to be unpensioned, perhaps unpaid by their congregations.^ 
The sacraments were to be administered, and the rites of burial 
and baptism performed, by private and laic hands. Instead 
of receiving instruction from the preacher, each individual, even 
the weakest, according to the measure of his gifts, might 
instruct and exhort his brethren. The opinions advanced in 
this work differ not only widely from those of the Church of 
England, but, I believe, from all the sectarian churches that 
exist. With regard to his theological tenets, the most remark- 
able are those which he avows on what is called the anthro- 
popathy of God ; attributing to ' God, a Spirit,' human passions, 
and a human form. 'If (he says) God habitually assigns to 
himself the members and forms of a man, why should we be 
afraid of attributing to him what he attributes to himself?' To 
which I presume the answer would be, that such expressions 
are used in the revelations of God's will, to make it intelligible 
to man f^ that the form of the revelation is acconmiodated to 

M 866 <Ooiuld6ntioBi oa ramovinf ffirellnvi,* 6d. Bniiiet, i. 169; it W6ie to b6 

wMi6dtta6iiii]iisl6nw6raalltnd6nD6n,lbc On Um different opinioni h6ld by 

tlM B6cttri6i on th6 lubjoet, on tho rapport of ttaolr miniit6n. 866 Warton*! MUton, 
p. 848 } and Todd*i MUton, vol. ▼. p. 483. 

«r In Um Edinburgh R6t. No. ctU. 86pt. 1831. In a note in their review «of the 
State of Proteatantlm In Germany,* a pun^o ii quoted Arom Jortin, " declaring that 
they wlM uphold the orthodox doctrine of tiie Trinity moat be prepared to aaaert, * tiUt 
J«flw Ckntt i» ku MM Fatiktr mud M$ own. San.* The eonioqaence will be ao, whether 
they like it, or whether they like ft not."— Be the worda of Jortin what they nuiy, and 
withoQt any raference to hia aatliority, I moat beg tlie reviewer to eonaider tliat the 
worda Father and Son are oaed in an analogoaa and flgontlTe aenae ; and that the 
<pMteat cantioB ia neceaaary not to connect with the tenia Fiithec and Bon, when 
applied DD the perwna of the Holy Trinity, any Ideaa aimilar to thoae of JhmuM deriT»- 
tlon.* HOton haa guarded and qnalifled hia language by the ezpraaaion— • We do not 
nj that God li in fhihion Uke unto maA in M ku partt mud mmmitn, but that (aa/w mt 
wo an fliiiginiid la kmno) he la of that tarn which he attribotea to himaelf hi the aaend 
writinvi.' p. 16. 


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the narrowness of man's understanding, and the limited circle 
of his knowledge ; that it speaks to him through analogy, and 
that it is not designed to acquaint him absolutely with the nature 
of God. 

He denies the eternal filiation of the Son, his seif^xistence, 
his co-equality, and co-essentiality with the Father. lie believes 
that the Son existed in the beginning, and was the first of the 
whole creation, by whose delegated power all things were made 
in heaven and earth ; begotten, not by natural necessity, but by 
the decree of the Father within the limits of time ; endued with 
the divine nature and substance, but distinct from the Father, 
and inferior to him; one with the Father, in love and una- 
nimity of will ; and receiving every thing, in his filial as well 
as in his mediatorial character, firom the Father's gifl.^^ — 
Thus his Arian heresies are divulged : but he fully acknowledges 
the satisfaction and atonement made by the death of Christ, for 
the sins of men. The Holy Ghost he considers as inferior to 
the Father and the Son. Matter, he says, is imperishable and 
eternal, because it not only is from God, but out of God, ' Non 
solum a Deo, sed ex Deb.' Hence the body is immortal as the 
soul. His argument on the lawfulness of polygamy is singular 
indeed. What but the line which he adopted, of reasoning on 
the simple text and literal words of the Scriptures, could have 
prevented his acknowledging, that from a manner of life pecu- 
liar to the nations of the East, from the scantiness of population, 
from the safety and strength derived from the unison of large 
families, from the non-existence of civilized communities, from 
the patriarchal authority of the father of the family, and the 
acknowledged inferiority and dependence of the other mem- 
bers; from the advantage or necessity of increasing the numbers 
of mankind, permission was granted to " the gray fathers of the 
world," extending even to a connexion between brothers and 
sisters ; which in later ages, in higher civilization, in the sweeter 
charities of life, in purer morals, with more refined ideasynore 
tender sympathies, and under a holier and more spiritual reli- 

•B See Dr. Sainner'B Profiure, p. xxziv. 


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gion, could not be entertained without sinfulness, nor establH^ 
ed without degradation and disorder ?^^ That which was harm- 
less in the Arabian deserts, or among Chaldean tents, could 
not be transplanted mto the enlightened communities, the closer 
affinities, and the diversified relations of an advanced society. 
The divine laws were made suitable to the nature of humanity, 
which they were designed to amend; hence, in. order to exalt 
it, they often bent to it ; they stepped back, as it were, only to 
gain a stronger hold. But Milton should have remembered the 
early and imperious demands which God made for a purer and 
more personal religion through the voice of his prophets ; and 
that the too easy divorces which the laws of Moses allowed to 
the Jews, were explained by our Saviour, as not forming a part 
of the perfect law, or holy will of Grod ; but as an unwilling 
allowance ' to the hardness of their hearts.' 

' The Pride of Reason^® (it has been very judiciously observ 
ed), though disclaimed by Milton with remarkable, and probably 
with sincere earnestness, formed a principal ingredient in his 
character, and would have presented, under any circumstances, 
a formidable obstacle to the. reception of the true faith.' — Caring 
nothing for institutions that were venerable, nor for opinions 
that were sacred, he not only disdains to wear the opprobrious 
shackles of authority, but even the decent vestments of custom.^^ 
Safo in his own inflexible integrity, in the great purity of his 

M Bee Dr. Cbanning*! remarks on ttdfl put of Milton's work, in his Remarks on tlie 
Charaeter and Writings of M^ton, p. 37. 

10 y. Doetor Sumner's Prefkce, p. zxzv. 

n Bee T. Warton's Bammary of Milton's Political Oplniona, in Todd's Milton, toI. 
▼i. p. 391. * In point of doctrine they are calculated to annihilate the very foundations 
of our civil and religtoos establishment, as It now subsists. They are subversive of our 
legialature and our species of government. In condemning tyranny, he strikes at the 
bare existence of kings ; in combating superstition, he strikes at all public religion. 
These disconnes hold forth a system of politics at present as unconstitutional, and almost 
as obsolete, as the nonsense of passive obedience ; and in this view he might Just as 
well think of republiablng the pernicious theories of the kingly bigot James, as of the 
republican usurper Oliver Cromwell.' This might have been spared. Milton's politi- 
cal speculalflcmB are not appUciile to our times ; and, as it has been Justly said, his theo- 
logical i^nions would have been different, had he survived to read the works of Water- 
land and Bull; so, we may say, his political theories would have been more wise and 
moderate, had he lived in the days of Bomers and of Locke. 


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heart, ai^d singleness of purpose, what his conscience dictates^ 
his courage proclaims. Impetuous, fearless, and uncompro- 
mbing, he pushes on his inquiries, till they end in a defence of 
the death of the monarch, and the substitution of a yisionary 
republic, in politics ; in a denial of the eternal existence of the 
Son, in theology ; and in the defence of a plurality of wives, 
in morals. Yet it must be remembered, that he lived in an age 
when men were busy pulling down and building up ; a fermen- 
tation was spreading over the surface, and dissolving the mate-« 
rials of society. Old faith was gone; old institutions were 
crumbling away. Long, splendid vistas of ideal perfection 
opened before men's eyes, dazzling their senses and confound- 
ing their judgments.^ Gray-headed men, men grown old in 
the business of life, and in the pursuit of practical wisdom, 
yielded to the siren influence. It pervaded the senate, the 
city, and the camp. What wonder then, if the Poet, the vis- 
ionary by his profession, the dreaming theorist, the man dwelling 
in ideal worlds and abstract notions, should be led astray t 

Such are some of the singular opinions advanced in this 
curious and late-discovered document of Milton's faith. "^^ They 
serve to show us that its author is every where the same; the 
same severe and uncompromising investigator of truth, the same 
fearless and independent judge of its reality ; in the honesty 
of his opinions uninfluenced, in the sanctity of his morals un- 
blemished, in the fervour of his piety unquestioned. But there 
was, both in his political and religious opinions, a visionary 
attempt at perfection, a grasping afler the ideal and the ab- 
stract, a lofty aspiration after the most exalted means, that, while 

» Bee the Aieopackiee, ]». 317, ed. Barnet. * Behold now this Test city, Slc There 
be pens and heada there sitting hj their studlooe lamps ; musing, searching, revolving 
new notions and Ideas wheiewftb to present, as with their bomafo and fealty, the ap- 
proaching refonnaSloD -, ocheis as (hst reading, trying all thini^, assenting to the force 
of reason and convlncement,' Ibc. 

TB Tt has been more than once remarked, that UtUe mention is made d Milt<m by his 
eontenvorariea. His name does not ocenr In the pages (4 Clarendoa. TiSWiiiii speafcs 
of him only ss a blind old man, who wrote Latin letters. Sir W. Temple does not 
name him, and R. Baxter passes over him in silence. Whttelocke mentions him only 
once, and that easoally. 

TOL. I. O 


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they supplied his imagination as a poet, in its boldest and most 
extended flights, unqualified him for the more cautious and 
practical character of the theologian and the statesman. In 
Milton was united for the first and perhaps for the last time, the 
imagination of the poet and the belief of the Puritan : of mate- 
rials so opposite was his exalted character composed ; yet both 
were perhaps equally necessary for the erection of the costly 
fabric of his fame. Had he not been a poet, he would not have 
heen distinguished above other men of like persuasion with 
himself; men of vigorous minds and unquestioned integrity, the 
Vanes, the Sydneys, the Fleetwoods of the age. As a scholar, 
perhaps, he would have still stood eminently distinguished and 
alone ; but Harrington excelled him in political wisdom, and 
Hall and other prelates in theological learning. Had he not 
been imbued with the austere feelings, the solemn and severe 
religion of the Puritans, we should indeed still have possessed 
from his genius creations of surpassing beauty ; but they would 
have been altogether of a different kind. We should have had 
the enchantments of Comus, the sounds of revelry, and Circe's 
cup ; but we should have wanted the songs of a higher mood, the 
voice of woe, the sorrows and the pride of the Hebrew captive. 
We should not have been carried back, as it were by vision, 
into the dark and austere learning of the Sanhedrim, and had 
the teraphim, and the ephod, pall and mitre, and "the old 
Flamen's vestry" brought before our eyes. We should still 
have possessed the noblest Epic of modern days, but its argu- 
ment would not have been the talk of angels, the sullen despair, 
or the haughty resolves of rebellious spirits, the contrition of 
fallen man, or the decrees of eternal wisdom. We should have 
had tales of chivalrous emprize, 'of gentle knights that pricked 
along the plain,' the cruelty of inexorable beauty, and the 
achievements of unconquerable love. Its scenes would not 
have been laid in the bowers of paradise, or by the ' thunderous 
throne' cff heaven, noi where the wings of the cherubim fan the 
mercy-seat ; but amid royal halls, in the palaces of magicians, 
«nd islands of enchantment. Instead of the serpent, with hairy 


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UFE OF MILTON. . cvii 

mane, and eye of carbuncle, gliding among the myrtle thickets 
of Eden, we should have jousts and tournaments, the streaming 
of gonfalons, the glitter of dancing plumes, the wailing of bar- 
baric trumpets, and the sound of silver clarbns ; battles fiercer 
than that of Fontarabia, and fields more gorgeous than that of 
the cloth of gold. What crowds of pilgrims and of palmers 
should we not have beheld journeying to and fro with shell, and 
staff of ivory, filling the port of Joppa with their gallies? 
What youthful warriors, the flowers of British chivalry, should 
we not have seen caparisoned, and in quest of the holy San- 
greal? The world of reality, and the world of vision, would 
have been equally exhausted to supply the materials. The 
odors would have been wafled from the " weeping wopds" of 
Araby : the dazzling mirrors would have been of solid diamond : 
and the flowers would have been amaranths, from the Land of 
Faery. Every warrior would have been clothed in pyropus and 
in adamant. We should have watched in battle not the celes- 
tial sword of Michael, but the enchanted Caliburn ; we should 
have had not the sorrows of Eve, and the fall of Adam, but the 
loves of Angelica, or the exploits of Arthur. 


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Mn-Ton ccmflnt^B Tiiinivlf t« pntiw^ trf iJn' frihiev^ Uwf hi* mukri Hot ihw 
BligJjttffl menti(Mi of Ihe Ma-^teTj ihtrUtr Bfiinhridfft^ *tho i* it^nrdcd to 
bAve been n nKHit rigid discipiiQnrUn, tntl Uktit c^n llmtv vi^y puLntfl whicb 
MUttrn p^ticuUrlj dLiiik«'d. Hv ddriiits thnt his dbpof^ttioii could not 
brook th^ titr^atfii ot tk rigorous matter ^hy whnm it i» movt re'BJoiinblt^ to 
suppose lif inr-niit Dr, Biutibridgi% ibc bpiMl of bis college. Walktrs Ul. 
Jinmcdt^Es^ p. 202. 

Scaliger read iJie two pwiri* <i4' HfumT in Iwi'irty-oiMa (tii^fl j uut thi* r*- 
maind^r of liif Grt^k poetif in four monttiSr 

P. xxjiii. ' Tb4t thi" maiij^r and gt'niui t»f that pU<ie (pBris) being not 
ogres able to hb mind, be toon left 11/ JPotK^'f Ptisti 0f . vol, U. 1635^ t^. 

P. xjcxiii. Leo Hoi Hie n, who reiwi^ed Mi]t<m kimtlrr at Rome^ b&d ifirkfliid 

soiTH? tiniu in ErjiiUnd^ nj&kjn^rewparrbiwin Ibi^ ]ubnirie«> Eie osatbioiAvd 
Q. frjendlipr correspiindf ncc' with N, HeiiieiUB^ to wiiom he hitd fibown niucH 
civility whpn Heindiw wa* nl Eomi.\ I reiiiJ tJj rough tlie colfcclion of 
Holtften'a iHtiM^, with the hop^ of finding some addn^ssed to Milton » but 
in Foiii ; Millon did not moJntatii a <?fjrres|M*n deuce with the ■cbolaw on 
the Gontineni. 

P. ixJEV. I have heard it confidently relat^fd^ fJial for his iiaid Tenolulionfl^ 
which out of policy Jwid for hi^ own safpty might have teen th*?n spurted, 
the EngHih prieaU at Eomt^ were highly di»gnat«d, and it wsj* quest ioticd 
whether the JeauitM^ his countrymen there, did not design to do him mis- 
chief. Wnod^B Jtth. Or, vol ii. coL -181. 

P. xxxviii. Tof^k a krger house, where U»* earl of lUrnmore sent, by 
his autit the ludy Ranelagh* Sir Thomas Gardiner of Es^sex, to be there 
with others (besides bin nephew) undt-r his tuition ; hut whether it were 
that the tempera of our geniry would not bear the strictness of hit diflci- 
pUnej Of for what other reasons I cannot tell, he continued Ihut course 
but a while. Wood's Atk. Or. vcd. ii. cJtL 4ai. 

P. ilv. Wherefore thoogh be eiml divfn* preaBinjf invitatJona, yet lie 
could not prevail with her to eomc hack, till about four years alter, when 
the g&iTifton of Oxford was surrendered (the uighneas of hot fkLh«r'« hoQpe 

Digitized by VjOOQIC 

ADDE19DA. ciz 

to wUeh IwTiiif ftr tlie most put of Chs mmn time hisdarad waj Qon- 
mnnicatioiis between them) ; ahe of her own Moord retarncd, and mtb- 
Biitted to him, pleftding that her nuftker had been the ehicf promotar of 
her forwardnesB. Wood's Ath. Ox. vol. ii. eal. 461. 

P. W. Biahop Gauden addreaaed tbtee lettora, Jan. 25, Feb. 20, 
March 6, 1661, to Lord Clarendon, in which lie laya claim for aerrioea in 
the royal cauae : in one of hia lettera he aaya, * Nor do I donbt but I ahall, 
by y iiordahip'a &Tor, find the fruita aa to aonethiog extraordinary, aince 
the aerrice waa aoe ; not aa to lohat terns kmewm to the world under my 
name, in order to Tindicate the crowne and the ehurch, hut laAei goet 
vmder tk$ UtU UeMsed king^B mam/Bt tlu Eimwr, er jtoftniture tf hyM majesty 
tn kys mflitvHrg and sufferings. This hook o^d figure was wholly and only 
my tnamtien, making and designs ; in ordtr le vindicate the Kmg*s wisdoms^ 
honor^ and piety. My wift indeed waa conaoiooa to it, and had an hand 
in Disguising the Isttere of that Copy whisk i sent to the King in the Me 
of Wighty by ftyoor of the late Marqoiae of Hertford,' dbo. In anawer 
to which. Lord Clarendon writea, March 13, 1661, * I do aaaaie yon 1 
am more afilicted with yon, and for yon, than I can ezpreaae ; and the 
more senaibly, that it ia the only charge of that kind ia laid upon me, 
which in troth I do not think 1 do deierre. The particular which you often 
renewed^ I do eoitfesss was imparted to ms undsr seereey^ and of which i 
did not take myself to be at liberty to take notice ; and truly when it eoases 
to be a secret^ I know nobody will be gladd of it but Mr. Miltom; § have 
very often wished I had never besn trusted with it.* Edinb. Rsv. vol. zUt. 
art. 1. 

P. lix. It waa the nanal pnotice of Marehmont Nedham, a great crony 
of Milton, to abuae Salmasius in hia public Mercury, called PoUUcns (aa 
Milton had done before him in hia Defenaio), by Miying, among other 
things, that Christiana, Queen of Sweden, had caahiered him her faTOor, 
by understanding that he waa a pemicioua paraaite and promoter of 
tyranny. Wood*s JHh. Ox. vol. ii. col. 484. 

P. Ixviii. Mra. Katharine Milton, wife to John Milton, Eaq. waa buried 
in St. Margaret'a Churchy in Weatminater, Feb. 10, 1657. Reg. Book. 
Milton then fired in a new house in Petty France, when Mr. Harvey, son 
of Dr. Harvey, of Petty France, Weatminater, told me, Nov. 14, 1770, that 
old Mr. Loumde aaaured him, that when Mr. Milton buried his wife, he 
had the coffin abut down with twelve aeveral locka, that had twelve several 
kejTs, and that he gave the keya to twelve aeveral frienda, and deaired the 
coffin might not be opened till they all met together. Kennet. Wood's 
Ath. Or. vol. ii. eU. 486. 

P. Izviii. The late Reverend Mr. Thoroaa Bradbury, an eminent dia- 
aenting minister, used to say, that Jer. White, who had been chaplain to 
O. Cromwell, and whom he peraonaUy knew, bad olten told him that 


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Milton was allowed by the Parliament a weekly tahU for the entertainment 
of foreign miniaterfl and persons of learning, such especially as came from 
Protestant states, which allowance was also continued by Cromwell. 
HoUis*9 Jfott ; see JVeiotonV Ufe^ p. Ivi. 

P. \xxy\. There has not one great poet appeared in France since the be- 
ginning of Cardinal Richelieu's ministry, but he has been protected and 
encouraged, and his merit as fast as it could spread has been generally 
acknowledged. I wish I could as truly affirm the same thing of England. 
The great qualities of Milton were not generally known among his coun- 
trymen till the Paradise Lost had been published more than thirty years; 
but when that admirable poet was among the Italians, the greatness of his 
genius was known to them in the very bloom of his youth, even thirty 
years before that incomparable poem was written. Dennis' sLetterM, p. 78. 

More people comprehend the excellency of Homer, and Virgil, and 
Milton, than the beauties of Martial and Cowley, though perhaps there 
are not ten persons living who know all the merit of Virgil ; and Milton's 
Paradise Lost had been printed forty years before it was known to the 
greatest part of England that there barely was such a book. Dennises 
LeUers, p. 173. 

P. Ixxvii. Nor can I believe that several who pretend to be passionate 
admirers of Milton would tieat him if living in any other manner, for the 
following reasons. 

Because they are so fond of nothing as of that soft and effeminate 
rhyme, which makes the very reverse of the harmony, and of the manly 
and powerful and noble enthusiasm of Milton. 

Because the generality of poets and wits his contemporaries did not 
esteem him, though they were by no means inferior in understanding to 
his pretended living admirers. Willmott, Earl of Rochester, never so 
much as mentioned him in his Imitation of the Tenth Satire of the First 
Book of Horace. When he came to imitate that passage, * Forte epos acer 
nt nemo Varios ducit,' instead of Milton he names Waller ; and when 
that noble peer was some years afterwards asked by Dr. Burnet, since 
Bishop of Salisbury, for which of the modem poets he had most esteem, 
he answered without the least hesitation, for Boileau among the French, 
and Cowley among the English poets. Mr. Ry mer, in his First Book of 
Criticism, treated the Paradise Lost with contempt, and the generality of 
the readers of poetry, for twenty years after it was published, knew no 
more of that exalted poem than if it had been written in Arabic. Mr. 
Dry den, in his Preiace before the State of Innocence, appears to have been 
the first, those gentlemen excepted whose verses are before Milton's poem, 
who disoovered in so public a manner an extraordinary opinion of 
Milton's extraordinary merit. And yet Mr. Dryden, at that time, knew 
not half the extent of his excellence, as, more than twenty years after- 




wards, he confeased to me, as ia pretty plain fh>in bia writing the State of 
Innocence; for Mr. Dry den in that poem, which ia founded on the Para- 
dise Lost, falls ao infinitely short of those wonderful qualities, by which 
Milton has distinguished that noble poem from all other poems, that one 
of these two things must be granted ; either tiiat Mr. Dryden knew not 
the extent of Milton *s great qualities, or that he designed to be a foil to 
him. But they who knew Mr: Dryden know very well that he was not 
of a temper to design to be a foil to any one. Dewiia's Letters, p. 76. 

P. Ixxxi. For my part I have no notion, that a suffering Hero can be 
proper for epic poetry. Milton could make but very little even of a suf- 
fering God, who makes quite another impression with his lightning and 
his thunder in Paradise Lost, than with his meekness and his stoicism in 
Paradise Regained, That great spirit which heroic poetry requires, flows 
from great passions, and from great actions. If the suffering Hero 
remains insensible, the generality of readers will not be much concerned 
for one who is so little concerned for himself. Dennises Letters^ p. 11. 

P. Izzziz. The estate which his father lefl him was but indifferent ; yet 
by his frugality he made it serve him and his. Out of his secretary's 
salary he had saved two thousand pounds, which being lodged in the 
excise, and that bank failing at his majesty *s reatoration, he utterly lost 
that sum. By the great fire which happened in London in the beginning 
of September, IG66, he had a house in Bread Street burnt, which was all 
the real esUte he had then left. Wood^s Ath. Ox. vol. ii. col. 486. 

To what does Fielding allude when he says, < It is to be hoped heedless 
people will be more cautious what they burn, or use to other vile purposes, 
especially when they consider the fate which had like to have befallen the 
ixoiiu MUUm* f v. Joum. to the Jfext World, p. 331. 


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* Mr. MiUorCs Agreement with Mr, Symons for Paradise Lost, 
dated %lth April, 1667.' 

< These Presents made the 27th day of April] 1667 between John Milton, 
gent, of the one part, and Samuel Symons, printer, of the other part, witt- 
ness That the said John Milton in consideration of five pounds to him now 
paid by the said Samuel SymSn^, and other the consideracSns herein 
mentioned, hath given, granted and assigned, and by these pots doth give, 
grant and assign unto the said Sam^* Sym9ns, his executors, and assignees. 
All that Booke, Copy, or Manuscript of a Poem intituled Paradise Lost, 
or by whatsoever other title er name the same is or shall be called or dis- 
tinguished, now lately licensed to be printed, together w^ the full benefitt, 
profit, and advantage thereof, or w<^ shall or may arise thereby. And the 
said John Milton for him, his ex" and adm", doth covenant w^ the said 
Sam'^ SymQns, his ex" and ass" that he and they shall at all times here- 
after have, hold and enjoy the same and all impressions thereof accord- 
ingljr, without the lett or hindrance of him the said John Milton, his 
ex" or ass", or any person or persons by his or their consent or privity. 
And that he the said John Milton, his ex" or adm** or any other by his or 
their meanes or consent, shall not print or cause to be printed, or sell, 
dispose or publish the said book or manuscript, or any other book or man- 
uscript of the same tenor or subject, without the consent of the said 
Sam" SymSns, his ex'" or ass" : In concideracon whereof the said Sam^^'i 
Symdns for him, his ex<" and adm" doth covenant with the said John 
Milton, his ex", and ass" well and truly to pay unto the said John Milton, 
his ex'", and adm" the sum of five pounds of lawfull english money at the 
end of the first Impression, which the said Sam" SymQns, his ex^ or 
ass" shall make and publish of the said copy or manuscript, which impres- 
sion shall be accounted to be ended when thirteen hundred books of the 
said whole copy or manuscript imprinted, shall be sold and retailed off to 
particular reading customers. And shall also pay other five pounds, unto 
the said John Milton, or his ass" at the end of the second impression to be 
accounted as aforesaid. And five pounds more at the end of the third im- 
pression, to be in like manner accounted. And that the said three first 
impressions shall not exceed fifteen hundred books or volumes of the said 



APPENDIX. cxiii 

whole copy or manuscripft, a peice. And ftirther, flMt he the iaid Samuel 
SymoDs, and his ex», adm", and ass- shall be ready to make oath before a 
Master in Chancery concerning his or their knowledge and belief of or 
concerning the truth of the disposing and selling the said books by retail, 
as aforesaid, whereby the said Mr. Milton is too be entitled to his said 
money from time to time, upon every reasonable request in that behalf, or 
in default thereof shall pay the said five pounds agreed to be paid upon 
e-very impression, as aforesaid, as if the saifte were due, and for and in 
lieu thereof. In witness whereof, the said parties have to this writing 
indented, interchangeably sett their hands and seales the day and yeare 
first above written. 

Jom Milton. (Seal). 
Sealed and delivered in ) John Fishet. 
the presence of us, * 5 Benjamin Greene, serv* to Mr. Milton. 

April 26. 1669. 
Rec*^ then of Samuel Simmons five pounds, being the Second five pounds 
to be paid — ^mentioned in the Covenant. I say rec^ by me. 

Jobs Milton. 
Witness, Edmund Upton. 

[ do hereby acknowledge to have receiyed of Samuel SymSnds Cittixen 
and StatSner of London, the Sum of Eight pounds : which is in full 
payment £or all my right, title, or interest, which I have or ever had in 
the Coppy of a Poem Intitled Paradise Lost in Twelve Bookes in 8vo 
— By John Milton, (rent, my late husband. Wittness my hand this 21^ 
day of December 1660. 

Elizabeth Miltoh. 

Wittness, William Yopp, Ann Topp. 

Know all men by these pssents that I Elizabeth Milton of London Wid- 
dow, late wife of John Milton of London Gent: deceased — have 
remissed released and for ever quitt claimed And by these pssents doe 
remise release & for ever quitt clay me unto Samuel Symonds of London, 
Printer — his heirs Ezcut" and Administrators All and all manner of 
Accon and Accons Cause and Causes of Accofi Suites Bills Bonds 
writinges obligatorie Debts dues duties Accompts Summe and Sumes of 
money Judgments Executions Extents Quarrells either in Law or Equity 
Controversies and demands — And all Sc eyery other matter cause and 
thing whatMever which against the said Samuel Symo&d»— I ever had 
VOL. I. P 


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and which I my heires Ezecuten or Administrators shall or may have 
clayme & challenge or demand for or by reason or means of any matr 
ters cause or thing whatsoever from the beginning of the World onto 
the day of these pssents. In witness whereof I have hereunto sett my 
hand and seale the twenty ninth — day of April in the thirty third Year 
of the Reigne of our Sovereign Lord Charles by the grace of God of 
England Scotland ffrance and Ireland King defender of the fiaith Sr. 
Anno Dni, 1681. • 

Elizabeth Milton 
Signed and delivered 

in the pssence of 
Jos. Leigh Wa Wilkins. 

Alterations by MiUonfrom the first edition in ten Books, for the 
second edition twelve. 

Book viii. V. 1. 
' The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear, 
So charming left his voice, that he a while 
Thought him still speaking ; still stood fix 'd to hear : 
Then, as new wak'd, thus gratefully reply'd.' 
The latter part of the verse was taken from the line in the first edition — 

* To whom thus Adam gratefully reply 'd/ 

Book zii. V. 1. 
' As one who in his journey bates at noon, 
Though bent on speed : so here th' arch -angel paused, 
Betwixt the world destroy'd and world restored ; 
if Adam ought perhaps might interpose : 
Then, with transition sweet, new speech resumes.' 

Some few additions were also made to the Poem, the notice of which 
will interest the critical reader. 

Book V. V. 637. 

* They eat, they drink, and with refection sweet 
Are fill'd, before th' all-bounteous King,' &c. 

were thus enlarged in the second edition : 

< They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet 
Quaff immortality, and joy, (secure 
Of surfeit, where full measure only bounds 
Excess) before th' all-bounteous King,' &c. 

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Book xi. V. 4^, after 

* Intestine stone, and ulcer, cholic-pangs/ 
these three verses were added : 

* DiTjiioniLLc pitrcn^j , moping mtsliiiichuijpH, 
And mofTn^eiruuk niadnewi piuiii^ iiU{f(ikjr, 
Majajinus^ ajid wide- wasting ptfjfUU^ric**/ 

And ver. 'tbl f^ftlw same hook (wliidi wtm^rtghmUf \ 
' Of renJrinjj up. Michaei lo him pepl/^d*) 

recaiYed Lhm nildiLifin: 

^Ofn^ndrinj^ up, uid patU^nily sUiifid 
My diflHolutitin. Mlchtiel fi'ply'd.^ 


No. i. ii. Greek letteti of C. Oeodati to Milloti, formerly in the po^ 
iseHflioa of To] and ^ now in the Britiah MuBeimi, additiona] MS* No* 6017* 
f 71 . (See Toland'B Life of Milton, p. ^1) 

No. iU. An Italkn k tier to jMiltonj frnm Florence^ witluiut the name of 
the author afHied. Carlo Dati wtm Ihe prm^^ipil correHpondenl of M iUod ; 
and I nhonld have aiippo!ii?d that hp hoil b^en the wriLer of ihts If^ltor^ hut 
that he ia ri^prpst^nled oj} a nrjbfomon ufliLTj^ fn^rttine^ and inthUlftlcT the 
writer Bp^aka of hk huin^ uppoiuii'd tr» the profeMorsbip of Belles Lettr«s 
ID the academy of Fin re nee, on th^ death of Doni^ If not from Carles 
Dati^ 1 ahould presume it must be ftum Bonmatt«i, his otlier FJorentino 
©orreBpondent,— ^ince writing the above f i havr di»eovcred that Carlo 
Dati succeeded Doui in the pTofesnorsJiip. He therefr>re is Uie writer. 
Doni died Dee. lG47;f aged fifty -tliree : he left C. Dati the ofljce of pub- 
Jishing hia woi-ksn Uemaiusi ^nya, * dativai, amtcissijuum miiti juvenem 
Ponitijj impcDse dilig^^bat.' C, Dati died in Jan. 1075^ Aged fifly-si*. 
Dati took the name in the Acad, delb Cnuca. of * Smairito,* He wrote 
the I*ives of the Ancient Painters, 4to. ltS67, and other small works. See 
Sal vino Sdviiio, in Fast. CoiifluJarJhuSj p. fjSfi^ and Bandiui Couun. de vitj!t 
Donii, p. xcL Very iole resting mention of C. Dati o<?ctiri repeatedly in 
the Epistle* of N. HcinHiuB. Bayle aaya he was verj ciril and rff^ciou^ ta 
all learned tritifalUrf who wfifU to 17^>rmce. Chimentelli thus speaks of 
him : ^ Clariseimns et amici^nimtts Car. DaliuSp, noatrffi 60s itlibatua urbis, 
snodi^'que Etruseiu medulla, qunui omni Ilterarufn par at u quotidit; nug^t, 
nt^^ue LUustratJ Nic* Hein»iii« haa dedicatf*d a book of his Ekgiea to 
Carlo Dati^ in whieh h* mentions his acquaintance witli Gaddi, Coltellini, 
Doui, Freicohol^h and otfjot of MUtoii*fi ftietids. Carlo Dati received Mm 

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with the same hospitality which he had showed to MilUm. He also 
mentions his reception by Chimentelli at Pisa. 

No. iy. Letter from Peter Heimbach. To this letter, an answer by 
Milton is found among his Epistles, p. G5. There is an address to Crom- 
well in Latin written by Heimbach, printed in London, 1656. This letter 
was sent after an interval of nine years in their correspondence ; and was 
an affectionate inquiry ccnceming Milton's safety, during^ the plague of 
the preceding year. 

No. y. Letter from ' Leo ab Aizema,' informing Milton he had printed 
a Dutch translation of his Book on Divorce. See Milton's Answer, p. 42, 
Feb. 1G54. Leo ab Aizema was a gentleman of Friesland, bom at Doc- 
cum, ICOO. He printed some Latin poems, and Historia Pacis a federal : 
fielgis ab An. 1G21. He was the resident for the Hans Towns at the 
Hague, and was a clever, friendly, and liberal man. See Saxii Onom. 
Lit. Vol. iv. p. 216. 

No. 1. 

(Condoling with him on the bad weather, and anticipating a meeting on 
the return of the fine.) 

*H (dv TUxQOvca ratdcrraatg rov &egoe doxh (p6oveQ<&TBgov d^a- 
xeXadai, ngdg & ^/iielg tt^ ^ diaXvdfievoi iOifisOa /Etiid^oilaa, xnl la- 
gaaaofiivjj ddo tjJf^ olag 'fiftigag, &ll ofuag joaovTdf intdvfiib trig aij; 
avrdiaiTi/l<rBQtgf &a6* inh intdvfUag yJJ^ ivdlav, xal yalT^vr^y^ xal 
n&yra /^i/aa eig j6p Sivqtov 6yei(f(hneiVf xal (i6vov 6v fiantCeaSMf 
fpa l&jfoiiP q>iloc6<f(uy, xal nenaiSevfiipwy ivaxi^sOa If olJLiJ JUii', ^«d 
tovTO duj' ^8ovl6firjv nifdg oh y^<p£tv, rov nqox&Xsiadai, xal S.vada^ 
(rdpew x^Q^^t diurag /u^ nffbg Sre^ drra vcvv nqouixV^ &.7iiXniuag 
i/jUaafiO^g, xal ^vnnditag, hg t6 7ra^6y^e. ^^lla <r6 OdQtrEi & (pile, 
xal IfifjLBVB Tc5 d^^avTi, avvafupoTv, xal dyaldfipays did&eaiy ttj; 
yjvx^g hograanx^v, xal qtaiiSgotigav T^ff xaOr^fUfgiy^g. xai ydp 
iacrigtoy iaral n&yja xaA(o;, xai o a^Q^ xal 6 ^Uog, xal 6 Ttdrafiogj 
xal diydqn xal Egyldia^ xal /^, xal dydgamoi iogrdJ^ovtny ij/Uii', avy- 
jFlaaovaiy, xal a^yxoqevvovut, th d^ dyfjLiioTjTwg leXixOfw fi6yoy <rC 
hoifiog ylyov, $j xlr^OBig i^ogfiaadai, ^ xal &xXijwg nodovyrt iniXdeiy, 
*AvTOfjL&xog dk Oi ^X6e 9 /?o^y dya&og MeyiXaog, "E^qfoao. 

. 1 irpw^ Jo Marg. 3 V|d« Horn. II. B. 466. 


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No. II. 
SeodoTog Mdratyt fafftep. 

(DeBcribes the pleasantness of his situation, and of the season, and ex- 
horts Milton to relax firom bis studies, and take recreation. This letter 
was probably sent from Cheshire to Milton at Horton, or in London ; it 
must haye been written about May.) 

*Ovdhv JSxoi iyxdiXeiv t^ vvp dtayoyjfri fwVf ixtbg ro^ov Mg, or* 
oreQlaxofia^ V^v/^g rlvog ysvyalag l/tyov J*T£»y, *al diddvai im(na- 
fUytjg, TOlriv toi *6<paX^v noOita, rdc d^ &kJLa &<pOoya ndyra i37id^/e« 
iviaiida iv&yqt^' iL y^ ^^ ^'^ XelTiOh, 6n6xav ^axa fAaxqdiy rinot 
xdiLUorTOft dvdeat, Mat <pvXXoig xofAibvTeg, mil ^^vieg, inl Ttavxl xMJijp 
6,ffi^y ^ dxaydlg, i} dilXo rl dqvidiov ^aXgj xal (uvvqiUficHg ifupikort-' 
fiitxalf n^qinaio^ Ttoixal^zaro^y r^nsl^a hvxB kvde^g, 6vxs xatAxO' 
(fog, ^roi diddgv^ot ; U iaOldv ttva ixaifiov tdvxeuTi nenatdevofiivop, 
xal fiefivi^fievoy inl xoixoig,^ ixxihftijv, rov txov Usquiav PamXioig 
ivdaifioyiaxsi^g dy yBvolfifiy SX^ iaxiv &si xl iVunkg iy roTg &y6QQh- 
Tflpoig Tigdyfiaaij ngbg 8 dii fi8jqi6xijxog, S-b dh c& davfidaie, xi xeera- 
<jpq6y€ig x&y ti}$ 4p6<reQ}g dtaqrjjMkxatyi t$ xaQxegeig 6.nq(Hpaal(no>g 
^i^Uoig, xal Xoyidloig nayvOx^oy, nayyr^q nqoGipvd/Asyog ; (^, yila, 
XQfb TT) yadirjxtf xal xaXg &qatg, xal navou ^ dyayiyihiixay x^g andv- 
dag, xal x&g dviaeig, xal qaaxdyag xQy ndJiah ao<fmy dvxdg xaxaxq^ 
pdfievog xitag. *£/(b fdv ly dnaaiy &XXoig ^xxmy aov ^agxtav, iv 
•toixf^ xui fUxqoy ndywy eldivat xqinxtay, xal doxib ifiavxd, xal hfu, 
'E^qoKFOif xal TTalt^s, &U,^ 6v x&xa Saqdav&TwXoy x6y iy adlotg. 

Note. — ^These two Greek letters ors printed in exact conformity with 
the orig^al MS. 

No. III. 
rimo Big. e Pron Osb«. 
Fino Tanno passato rispoei alia oortesissima ed ele^antiasima lettera di V. 
S. Illma affettuosamente ringraziandola della memoria che per sua grazia 
si eompiace tenere della mia oeserranza. Scrissi, come fo adesso in Tos- 
cano, sapeodo che la mia lingua ^ a lei si cara, e fkmiliare che nella sua 
bocca non apparisce straniera. Ho di poi riceruto due copie delle sue 
emditissime poesie delle quali non mi poteva arriyare donativo pii!i caro, 
pereh^ quantunqne piccolo, racchiude in se yalore infinito per esser una 
gemma del tesoro del Signer Gioy. Miltoni. E come disse Theocrito ; 

t (rrufiirv^-M in MS * d^i, erased in teit. 


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cxviii APPENDIX. 

Gran pregio ba picciol dono, e merta^onore 
Ci6 che vien da gV amicl. 
Le rendo adunque quelle grazie che maggiori per me si possono e prego il 
Cielo che mi dia fortuna di poterle dimostrare la mia devozione Terso il 
suo merito. Non a8conder6 alia b^nevolenza di V. S. lUma, alcune nuove 
che Bon certo, le saranno gratissime. II Serenissimo Granduca mio Sig- 
nore s' e compiaciuto conferirmi la catedra, e lettura delle lettere umane 
deir Academia fiorentina yacata per la morte deir ]Sruditi88imo Signer 
Gio. ' Don! gentilhnomo Fiorentino. Quesia e carica onorevolissima, e 
sempre esercitata da gentilhuomini e literati di questa Patria, come gik 
dal Poliziano, da'i due Vettori, e due^ Adrian! lumi delle Lettere. La 
passata Settimana, per la morte del Serenissimo Principe Lorenzo di Tos 
cana, Zio del Granduca Regnante, feci V orazione funerale ; come ellasia 
publicata, sark mia cura invia ne copia a V. S. Illma. Ho alle mani 
diverse opere, quali a Dio piacendo tirer6 avanti per fame quello giudi- 
cheranno meglio i mie' dotti e amorevoU amici. II Signer Valeric Chi- 
mentelli ^ stato eletto da S. Altezza per Professore delle lettere Greche 
in Pisa, con grande espettazione del suo valorem 

I Signori Frescobaldi, CdieUini, Franclni, Galileiy^et altri infiniti uni- 
tamente le inviano afiettuosi saluti, ed io, come pi{k d*ogn' altro obbligato, 
con ricordarle il desiderio de' suoi comandi mi ratifico per sempre vivere. 
Di V. S. Illma. 

Firenze, 4 xbre 1648. 

Extra.— AW Hlmo Signor e Pron Osso. II Sig^. 
Giovanni Miltoni, Londra. 

No. IV. 

Viro supra laudem . 
Jano Miltonio sue salutem p. d. 
Petrus Ileim bachius. 
Si citius constitisset nobis, te, Jane Miltoni, vir omni ex parte summe, 
mortalium ccetui interesse adhuc, citius quoque Londinum reversus, nos- 
trum amicissimum animum testatus fuissem. Ferebant enim te nostris 

1 Petnia, and, I believe, Franciscua Victorius. 8ce the Life of the Utter by BandinL 
9 The two Adriani were Marcello, and his son Giambnttista, both professors of litera- 
ture at Florence, and both Secretaries of Blate. The father died in 1521, the son in 
1570. Giambattista wrote the Storia dd suoi Tempi, a worlc highly praised by De Thou. 
8 The great OaiiUo died at Arcetri, 9 Jan. IG-IS, aged seventy-eight ; he is said to have 
been bom at Pisa, the very day that H. Angelo died at Rome. The Galilei mentioned 
above was * Vincenzo,' his natural son. There is strong evidence that he was the first 
Co apply the pendule to the cIocIe. He seems to have done so in 1649, while Huygens's 
tiiventk>n was of later date. 




nugifl ezemptaniy patrio cailo redonatom esse, terrisque sublimiorem qoavia 
nostra despicere. Ad hoc regnum, at non datur aditus, sic calamum 
meum satis ad tui similes scripturientem hactenus cohibere, ac reprimere 
debai. Ego certe qui non tarn yirtntes ipsas quam virtu turn diversarum 
conjugium in te admirabar, cum alia multa in te suspicio, fum quod gravi- 
talis quam priB se fert dignissima yiro factes, cum serenissima humanitate, 
charitatis cum prudentia, pietatis cum poUtica, politicsB cum immensa 
eniditione, sed, addo, generosi, nee minime timidi spiritus, etiam ubi 
juniores animos^ laberentuii cum soUcito pacis amore, raram omnino, et 
poster fas siecali mixturam feceris. 

Hinc Deum yeneror, tibi nt omnia ex Yoto, et animi sententia rursmn 
eveniant, sed uno ezcepto. Nam tn quidem ^ saturus annis, plenus 
honoribos, iis etiam quos recnsasti nihil ultra exoptas quam quietis 
pnemium, ac justitiea coronam, tuumque idem, quod olim Simeonis yidetur 
yotum. Demitte, Domlne, nunc seryum tuum in pace. Ast nostrum 
longe ad hoc alienissimnm est, nerape ut D. T. O. M. te diutisslme 
inieresse rebus nostris literariis, ac prieesse patiatur. Sic yale, doctissime 
Miltoni, loDgum et feliciter cum omnibus tuis, plurimum a nobis salutatus. 
Dabam postridie nonas Jonii yulgaris Mxm Christian89 cb. loc. Ixyi. 
Cliyopoli ubi Eleotorali solio, yiyimus ac consiliis. Iternm yale, et nos 
quod facia adamare persevera, ac qnam primum jucundissimo omnium 
responso bea. 

No. V. 
S. P. 

Partim quia Moras in suo Scripto qurodam tibi aspersit ex libro tuo de 
diyortiis Anglico, yir nobilis et cl : partim quia multi curiose qufesiveront 
de argumentis qoibus opinionem adstruis tuam : dedi cuidam tractulum 
ilium totum in Hollandicum sermonem yertendum: cam desiderio, ut 
quanto ocius imprimatur. Nescius autem an quicquam in eo correctum 
yel additum yells ) non potui quin hoc yerbo te admoneam et de animo 
tuo, ut me certiorem facias, rogem. 

Vale, et Salye a 
Hag® die Tui Obseryantiss. 

29 Jan. 1654-5. Leo Aizema. 

Extra. — Nob. Cl. yiro Dno Job. Miltono 

Consilio Status k Secretis 


• Attlmi. « Bator. 

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(▼. BarmanDi Syllogen, toI. iii ) 

P. 217. JuMua ille (Is. Vossius) MUUmianum scriptam, siioul ac allatum 
in attlam esset, Salmasio siatere, quod invitus credo, fecerit. QuA fronte 
ezceptum ait, Tellem aimul monuiiiaet amiciasimua Wullenius, qui ejua rei 
certiorem me fecit. 

P. 259. Salmasius post acceptum MilUnu acriptum, fremit ac frendet, 
auctoremque ejus se cum toto parlameuto perditunim palam minatur. 
Bed illos primoa impetus siifflamiqabit credo, non nihil , respondendi 
moleatia ae labor. 

P. 267. Salmaaius in Miltono defricando totus eat, quern a me subor- 
natum instagatumque palam prssdicat, ma||rnumque mihi ac patri malum 
hoc nomine minatur in apologiA quam parat, nobis tribua aimul insultar 
turns. Mira profecto est hieo hominis insania, quam impune tamen non 
fecit. Vidi freneticam ejus epistolam, qua existimationi noetne, dira 
qufBvis portendit. 

P. 270. Scribonii largi (i. e. Salmasii) atroz contra rempublicam 
Anglicanam scriptum, prcelo Holmiensi jam commissum ferunt Miser 
bte Senecio prorsus delirat ac insaniL Misit duas in hanc urbem nuper 
epiatolasi rabiei aycophanticce non inanea, quibus omne se virus in me 
conversurum minatUTi quod Miltoni scriptum probari a me intelligaL 
Ego vero, et dixi, et dicam porro, malam a Miltono caiiaam tarn bene 
actaTOi quam regia infelicissimi caosam pessim^ egit Scribonius. Hanc 
meam libertatem si ferre non potest, rumpatur. Adulatoria a me partes, 
non est, quod ezigat. Cum neacire non debeat quam me servilis obsequii 
clientem hactenua non ait expertua. Hoc etiam maligne et Salmasiane 
quod regibua non minus ac MUtonum me infensum fingit, cum publice 
jam bis testatus sum, quid de parricidio Anglicano senserim. Inter re^i- 
eidasy si locum mihi dat, ut omni procul dubio daturus, videbis brevi pro 
meritis omatum et dcpexnm. Nihil neque senectuti ejus, neque vale- 
tudini adveraie parcam. Ita ilium excipiam, nt parentem meum ille jam- 
dudum excepit, pejus etiam, si potero. 

P. 271. Salmaaii in MUtonum inyectiveB jam eduntur. Graawinchelius 
noster etiam regum cauaam auacepit defendendam contra eondem Mil- 


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P. 376. Lttdimagiitnim vocat Scriboniiu psMim Mttomun^ qui tameo 
•t nobili loco natus, ut ferunt, qui bominem norunt, et in re lautd consti- 
tutus, Tariis peregnnationibus, asaiduisque atudiis privatus {Dtatem, quam 
quadra^nta annia grandiorem yix numerat, exegigae narratur. Donee a 
conailio stataa Anglici ad acribe proyinciam in iato collegio suacipiendam 
invitatua eat. Virum esae miti, comique ingenio aiont, quique illam non 
babuiaae ae cauaam profitetur, Scriboniuna acerbe inaectandi, quam quod 
ille et viroa e mazimia celeberrimiaque multia nihil benigniua ezceperit, 
et quod in uoiyeraam Anglorum gentem, convitiia atrociaaimia injuriua 
yalde fuerit. Si quia Angloram veralbua illia meia, quoa tu noati, aliquid 
leponeret, nnmquid ridiculua tibi yiderer ai ilium a Scribonio inatigatum 
aaaeverarem ? 

P. 286. MUtoni liber Londini auctior, et auguata ibrma iteratur, ingena 
nimorum materia diaceaaua eodem tempore rot) invU (Salmaaii) Frein- 
■hemi, Boecleri, Moncheronia, exhauataa arcaa alii, alii gentia ferunt 

P. 303. Prodiit et ' Clamor regii sanguinia/ aine auctoria nomine, quern 
tamen intelligo facile eaae Morum qui etai vult yideri ae cauaiB id dediaae, 
aatia prodit, ae potiua id dediaae patrono bospiti, ut Miltono frigidam 
Buffanderet in anteceasum, dum alter mare, aut lacum criminum undique 
conductum parat. 

P. 305. iKthiopa (A. Morua) Sociennua ejua triumphum egit, ut audio, 
in amici aui ledibua de aubactia Britannia- Gazettie eerie Londinienaia 
£ibellam narrant lepidiaaimam : palmam earn prasreptam aibi dolet Alastor 
(Salmaaiua) quare aimultatea cum iEtbiope nunc atrenuaa exercet, aiquid 
fame creditor. 

P. 307. *■ Clamorem regii aanguinis' ab Anglo scriptum neacio quo, aed 
a Moro editom intellezeram. Morum tamen parricide pro auctore ejua 
lil»i habent, ac egregie in Gaaettia, at yocant, Londinenaibua defricarunt, 
tanquam conleaaa Bi ab iUo, Alaatoria (Salmaaii) pediaequa addito hoe 

Galli ezconcnbitu grayidam te, Bontia, Mori 
Quia bene moratam, morigeramque neget } 

Agnoaeia in illo Onweiani acuminia ineptiaa, quod Ulitiua herua meonm 
commanicayit, Alaatoria (Salmaaii) acriptum contra Angloa ayide ezpecto ; 
de meo enim icrgo, quin illie comitia aint habenda nullua dubito. Sic 
promiait certe, com Miltonom a me amatum perauaderi aibi paaaua ait. 

P. 323. Magnoa ille Pan (Salmaaiua) qui aecundam Voaaii ez Suecia 

fugam minabatur, mihi quoqne mala multa, ae ipai dominsa exitium, niai 

no* a ae abigent, ut ez Moro intelligebaa nuper, nunc ad plurea abiit. 

Alii Spade, aUi Aqnt^gimni in balneo mortaum ferunt. Trajecti ad Moaam 

VOL. I. <( 




Bepnltum certe constat. Nimirum qui armis tantopere delectabatuTi inter 
arma sepeliri' voluit. Hunc casum accidisae mihl non valde lugubrem 
fiiteor, non quod miros hominis edentulos timerem, sed quod tranquillitatem 
animi onice amem, quam ille mihi propriam ac perpetuam baud quaquam 
Teliquiflflet. £rat etiam ek letate, ut nihil solidi aut eruditi ab eo ampliuB 
Bperari posset. 

P. 595. lAher MiUoni hen hue est allatus. Exemplar meum petiit a 
me regina. Ipse fkon nisi cursim dum perlustrayi. Nihil tale ab Anglo 
expectaram, et certe nisi me fallit animus, placuit quoque, uno tantum 
excepto, incomparabili nostras Dominoe. Dicit tamen Salmasios se per- 
diturum auctorem cum toto parlamento. 

P. 596. MiUoni apologiam pro parlamento suo, priori accepimus heb- 
domade. Legit istud scriptum incomparabilis nostra domina, et, nisi fallor, 
valde ei placuit. Certe et ingenium istius viri, et scribendi genus, multis 
pnesentibus collaudavit. Salmasius jam sese ad respondendum accingit 
quamvis necdum a diuturno morbo convaluerit, ira tamen satis ei suppe- 
ditabit roboris et armorum. 

P. 600. Virulentum MiUoni librum jamdudum ad vos perlatum confido, 
ejus editiones quinque jam hie vidimus. Belgicam etiam versionem, 
Gallicam nunc adornari ferunt. 

P. 603. Ex MiUoniano libro unicum tantum exemplar Holmiam perlatum 
miror, cum tria uno eodemque tempore, fuisse missa sciam. Est hie liber 
in omnium hie manibus ob argument! nobilitatem, et jam qnatuor, prtBter 
Anglicanam, editiones vidimus, unam in quarts ut vocant formd Goudn 
editum, tres in duodecima, quarum primam L. Elzevirius, secundam J. 
Jansenius, tertiam Trajentensis nescio quis edidit, quinta in octava format 
editis. HagsB sub proelo sudat ut monet Elzevirius. Belgicam versionem 
video etiam circumferri, Gallicam expectari ferunt. MiUontta ille quis sit 
non satis constat. Vidi qui adfirmarint, infimo loco natum: eruditum 
tamen, et plebeiorum factione ad maximam dignitatem promotum. L. 
Elzevirius adfirmat, certo sibi constare hominem esse et nobili loco natum, 
et opulentum, a reipublicae muniis negotiisque omnibus remotum, ac sibi 
in rure suo viventem. Refutavit Anglico sermone Iconem Basilicam, qui 
liber inter Parlamentarios maximo est in pretio. Poemata etiam Latina 
edidit, sed quie in manus meas hactenus non pervenerunt. Si certiora 
cognove^, faciam ut ex me intelligas. 

P. 605. Valde quoque gratum erit, si porro significaveris, quis et qualis 
sit iste MtUamtSy Iconoclastem si habeas, rogo ut transmittas. 

P. 606. Salmasius situs est in meditatione operis contra MiUomtm, 
Lepidnm est, quod de Graswinchelio narras, male mulctabitur, si MUionum 

P. 601. Gronovii adversam valetudinem aegre admodum fero. At vero 
plus sBgrotat Graswinohelios, si cum Anglo isto Molosso, MiUano dicoy 


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APPENDIX. cxriii 

■ese oommiaerit. — Ipse (Salmattui) totus nunc est in confbtando Soripto 
MUtoni, oni totidem reddit conyitia nee patietur, ut a minore, vel h&c in 
paite aaperetur. 

P. 681. Graswinchelio interdictom esse, ne pergat in Miltono con- 
fiitando, mgte fert Salmasius. Verom idem ex animo gaudet libnim 
MUtonif Lutetiie publice a camifice esse combastam. Non opus, ut meum 
de hoc scripto interponam jadioiuoi, interim hoc scio, fatum esse bononim 
fere libroram, ut hoc modo vel pereant vel pericliientur. Homines ple- 
romque propter ^celera et pravitatem manus carnificum subeunt, libri 
vero virtutis et pnastantiss erg^. Soli fatuorum labores tales non metuunt 
casus. Sed sane frustra sunt, qui se hoc modo exsUrpare posse existimant 
MilUnd et aliorum Scripta, cum potius flammis istis, mirum quantum 
clarescant et illustrentur. Qua autem de Miltoni conditione, ad me 
■eribis, ilia convenize puto cum iis, quie tibi ante hebdomades aliquot 

P. 643. De motibus Anglicanis certiora procu] dubio ex illo intelligere 
poasis. Ego quippe raro in publicum prodeo, et non me multum immisceo 
publicis rumoribtts. MUtonum cecum esse factum, jam tibi significavi, 
addunt alii etiam mortuum. 

P. 647. De iEthiope (Moro) et AnglA (PontiA famuli Salmasil) lepida 
sunt et festiva quaa reponis. Sed nunc negant ea vera esse, et sparaa esse 
ab Maleyolis quibusdam. Sane constant mihi Anglam istam omnes 
Athiopi (Moro), reddidisse amatorias suas. Inter ipsum et SalmasiUm 
lis forte orietur (quasnam inter tales possit esse diutuma Concordia), 
propter libnim htc excnaum, cui titulus '< Clamor Sanguinis Regii in 
Coslnm." Scriptus ille videtur a quovis Anonymo Anglo transmissus 
▼eio Salmano, ditolgaius yero ab £thiope (Moro). Propter sexaginta 
exemplaria, que permisit typographus, inter ipsos est contentio. 

P. 649. De * Moro' yero que scribis, quam sunt ea lepida, quam 
yenusta. Auctor sane ei sim, ut nummum det cum hiHc inscriptione, 
" SubaQta Britannia" verum vide quam ingratus sit iste heros erga 
£thiopem, cujus tamen clavro istam debet victoriam, quoniam is non 
cupit earn nxorem ducere, acerrime nunc ilium persequitur. Mihi sano 
Athiops multo rectius facturus fuisse yidetur, si ex Oyidii tui prscepto a 
Domina incipisset. Minor quidem voluptas ista fuissit, sed longe majorem 
iniviaset gratiam, divulgata est passim hoec fabella etiam in gazettis pub- 
licis LondinenaibuB addita etiam Epigrammata. 

P. 651. De Sahnaaio nihil omnino habeo, quod tibi aignificem. Credo 
enim etiamnum cum aolito auo malo conflictari. Rettulit tamen non 
nemo, eum nunc meliuacule yalere. Lia ipsi est cum Moro. Cupit enim 
ut is Anglicanam auam in uzorem ducat, quod alter recuaat. Verum iati 
duo boni amantea, qui nuper tam auaviter et amice oacula jungebant, yalde 


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nnne nbt inTiiMm rant infenn. Ante quatridnnm nqnidem, cum foite 
Mannis huic noetne occnrreret in Tutft isU area, que edibos Salmaoi 
adjacet, statim ilia capillitium ejnsinvarit, pluribnsque adiecit verberibaa. 
Neque eo contentai etiam fuate in ilium aevire conabatur, niai bonus iUe 
•ocios in horreum confo^iMet, super struicem quandam, jactuque se Tin- 
dicasset cespitum. Huic spectaculo non defuit ingens spectatoram 
Humerus, qui ex vicinia passim eo confluzerant, vides quam omnes in iis 
edibuB sunt yvraixox^orot/^fyoi, facile bine posais conjtcere, &lsos fuiase 
rumores qui de ' Subacta Britannia' passim fuere sparsi, cum ilia potius 
Maurum subegerit, vel, si verus sit rumor, adparet non satis fuiase subao- 

P. 662. Salmasius totus est in responso ad Miltonum. Cflsptos est jam 
ezoudi, qui mole non erit minor priori. Miltonum passim CaUtmihun 
▼ocat, aitque cum in ItaliA vilissimum fuisse scortum, et passim nummis 
nates prostituisse, ezaminat quoque passim Carmina ejus Latina. Di»> 
sidium yero quod ezeroet cum Moro, indies crescit, presertim poetquam 
in jus Tocavit Anglicam, infeneus quoque est alio nomine, nempe quod 
ipsum Moms Comigerum Tocarit. 

P. 669. Miltonum mortuum credideram, sic certe nnnciaras, sed 
prestat in Tiyis ilium esse, ut Sycophantn cum Sycophantis commit- 
tantuf . Poemata ejus mibi ostendit Holstenius, nihU ilia ad elefrantittm 
apciogim, JnprotodiampeecamtfirequaUer, Magnus igitur Salmaaian» 
crisi campus bio est assertus, sed qui fronte alienos iste versus notabit, 
cujus musis nihil est cacatius ? quod ait adveraarium (Miltonum) nates 
Italia Tendidisse, mira est calumnia. Utinam ejus malie tam tute iu]»^ 
sent a pugnis uzoriis, quam posticum MUUnd os a sicariis Hetruscis ! Imo 
ioTisus est ItaUs Anglus iste, inter quos multo vizit tempore, ob mom 
nimium soTeros, cum et de religione liberte disputaret, ac multa in Pon* 
tifioem Romanom aoerbe efiiitiret, qoayis oooasione. 



SMth August, 1790. <' I dined yesterday at Sir Gilbert's. As soon as 
the cloth was removed, Mr. Thornton gave the company an account of 
the violation of Milton's tomb ; a circumstance which created in our 
minds a feeling of honor and disgrnst He had been one of the visitors 
lo the hallowed spot, and obtained his information from a person who 


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had been a witness to the whole sftcrileg;ioQ8 tnnsaotion. He related flie 
eyent nearly in the following manner : — 

'' The church of St. Giles, Cripplegate, being in a somewhat dilapidated 
state, the^arish resolved to commence repairing it, and this was deemed 
a farourabie opportunity to raise a subscription for the purpose of erecting 
a monument to the memory of our immortal bard, Milton, who, it was 
known, had been buried in this church. The parish register book bore 
the followinfir entry : — ' 12 November, 1674, John Milton, gentleman, 
consump con, chancell.' Mr. Ascough, whose grandfather died in 17^, 
aged 84, had been oflen heard to say, that Milton was buried under the 
desk in the chancel. Messrs. Strong, Cole, and other parishioners, de- 
termined to search for the remains ; and orders were given to the work- 
men, on the first of this month, to dig for the coffm. On the third, in 
the ailernoon, it was discovered : the soil in which it had been deposited 
was of a calcareous nature, and it rested upon another coffin, Which, there 
can be no doubt, was that of Milton*8 father, report having stated that the 
poet was buried, at his request, near tlie remains of bis parent ; and the 
same register book contained the entry, * John Millon, gentleman, 15th 
March, 1646.' No other coffin being found in the chancel, which was 
entirely dug over, there can be no uncertainty as to their identity. 
Messrs. Strong and Cole having carefully cleansed the coffin with a 
brush and wet sponge, they ascertained that the exterior wooden case, in 
which the leaden one had been enclosed, was eoUrely mouldered away, 
and the leaden coffin contained no inscription or date. At the period 
when Milton died, it was customary to paint the name, age, &«. of the 
deceased, on the wooden covering, no plates or inscription being then in 
use ; but all had long since crumbled into dust. The leaden coffin was 
much corroded : its length was five feet ten inches. The above gentle- 
men, satisfied as to the identity of the precious remains, and having drawa 
up a statement to tiiat effect, gave orders, on Tuesday, the 3d, to the 
workmen to fill up the grave ; but they neglected to do so, intending to 
perform that labour on the Saturday following. On the next day, the 4th, 
a party of parishioners, Messrs. Cole, Laming, Taylor, and Holhies, 
haying met to dine at the residence of Mr. Fountain, the overseer, the 
discovery of Milton's remains became the subject of conversation ; and it 
was agreed upon that they should disinter the body, and examine it more 
minutely. — At eight o'clock ' at night, heated with drink, and accom- 
panied by a man named Hawkesworth, who carried a flambeau, they sal- 
lied forth, and proceeded to the church. The sacrilegious work now 
commences. The coffin is dragged from its gloomy resting-place. Holmes 
made use of a mallet and chisel, and cut open the coffin slantways from 
the head to the breast. The lead being doubled up, the corpse became 
visible : it was enveloped in a thick white shroud ; the ribs were standing 


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up regularly ; but the iuBtant the shroud was removed, they felL The 
features of the countenance could not be traced, but the hair was in an 
astonishingly perfect state ; its colour a light brown^ its length six inches 
and a half, and, although somewhat clotted, it appeared, a%r haying 
been well washed, as strong as the hair of a living being. The short 
locks growing towards the forehead, and the long ones flowing from the 
same place down the sides of the face, it became obvious that these were 
most certainly the remains of Milton. The 4to. print of the poet, by 
Faithorne, taken from life in 1670, four years before he died, represents 
him as wearing his hair exactly in the above manner. Fountain said he 
was determined to have two of the teeth.; but, as they resisted the pressure 
of his fingers, he struck the jaw with a paving-stone, and several teeth 
then fell out. There were only five in the upper jaw, and these were 
taken by Fountain ; the four that were in the lower jaw were seized upon 
by Taylor, Hawkesworth, and the sexton's man. The hair, which had 
been carefully combed and tied together before the interment, was forcibly 
pulled off the skull by Taylor and another ; but Ellis the player, who 
had now joined the party, told the former, that, being a good hairworker, 
if he would let him have it, he would pay a guinea bowl of punch ; add- 
ing, that such a relic would be of great service, by bringing his name 
into notice. Ellas, therefore, became possessed of all the hair : he like- 
wise took a part of the shroud, and a bit of the skin of the skull : indeed, 
he was only prevented carrying off the head by the sextons, Hoppy and 
Grant, who said that they intended to exhibit the remains, which was 
aAerwards done, each person paying 6d. to view the body. These fellows, 
1 am told, gained near 1001. by the exhibition. Laming put one of the 
leg bones in his pocket. My informant assured me, continued Mr. 
Thornton, that, while the work of profanation was proceeding, the gibes 
and jokes of tliese vulgar fellows made his heart sick, and he retreated 
from the scene) feeling as if he had witnessed the repast of a vampire. 
Viscount C, who sat near me, said to Sir G., " This reminds me of the 
words of one of the fathers of the church, * And little boys have played 
with the bones of great kings.' " — London Monthly Magatine, Augufty \S!X3L 


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Qui le^ AxxuBBam Paxadisum, gnjaditL magni 

Carmina Miltoni, quid nisi conota le^ ? 
Res cunctas, et cunctarum primordia rernm, 

Et fata, et fines continet iste liber. 
IntLma panduntur magni penetralia mvndi ; 

Scribitur et toto quicqnid in orbe latet; 
Temeque, tractusque maris, ccelumque profiindom 

Sulphoreumque Erebi flammiyomumque specus ; 
Qufeque colunt terras, portumque et Tartara cscai 

QufBque colunt summi lucida regna poli ; 
£t quodcunqne ullis conclusum est finibus usquam, 

Et sine fine Chaos, et sine fine Deus ; 
Et sine fine magis, si qaid magis est sine fine, 

In Christo erga homines conciliatus amor. 
HsBC qui speraret quis crederet esse futurum ^ 

Et tamen htec hodie t^rra Britanna legit. 
O quantos in bella duces ! qusn protulit arma ! 

Quce canit, et quanta, pnelia dira tuba. 
Ccelestes acies ! atque in certamine ccelum ! 

Et qu8B coelcstes pugna deceret agros ! 
Quantus in setheriis tollit se Lucifer armis, 

Atque ipso graditur vix Michaele minor ! 
QuantiSy et quam fiinestis concurritur iris 

Dum ferns hie stellas protegit, ille rapit ! 
Dam vulsos montes ceu tela reciproca torquent, 

Et non mortall desuper igne pluunt : 
Stat dubius cui se parti concedat Olympus, 

Et metuit pugnaa non superesse suae. 
At simul in coelis Messiee insignia fulgent, 

Et currus animes, armaque digna Deo, 
Hprrendumque rotoB strident, et saeva rotarom 

Erumpunt torvis fulgura luminibus, 
Et flammsB vibrant, et ycia tonitrua rauco 

Admistis flammis insonuerc Polo, 
Excidit attonitb mens omnis, et impetus omnis 

Et cassis deztris irrita tela cadunt 


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Ad p<Eiiw fu^utit, et c*u fowt Dretti lAjlYiQa 

Inferniu ci^rtjint condcre te tenc*bns, 

liifc quieanqut; leg^l taiilum cccitiiis^ pui&bit 

0AUL'£L fiA&&OW« IL O, 


Whew 1 beheld Ihe poet blind, yet boW, 
tn slc^nd^r book hii Y^si dc^i^n unfold^ 
Mesaiali crowii'dj G^d'a reeondrd decree, 
Kfibclling angclSf the forbidden trep, 
lleav'tif ^^^h e&rtb, chnoi} nil ; t>ie or^unieiil 
Held me awhile misdoubtinir hiA intent. 
That he wtiuld nnne (for I saw Mm str«ng) 
Th& sacred truths to Fable and i>Ld song : 
(So Sainpaon jrrop'd the tetnpli'** iK^st* Jti *pile) 
The world oVnvhelimng to rwtnge hl» Biijht. 

Yet aa I read, sfnm growing 1»*S9 i^'V«*re, 
J lik'd his project, iJu* auceeMa did fear; 
Througli that wide fi^ld how lie h]» way ttbotild Itnd 
O'er which knie faith k-tida understanding blind ; 
Lest be perplex'd the ibingTi he would exfilainf 
And what waa posj he lihould render vain. 

Or if a work oti iefmite he BpiLnnM, 
Jeahsus I was tlmt Borne lf»S5 skjlful hand 
(Such aa disquiet always what is well, 
And by ill imitating would exe^l) 
Might hence presume \hti whole creation *s day 
To change In scenes, and ihow it in a play. 

Pardon ine, mighty poet, nor despise 
My causeless, yet not impicma, eumiise* 
But I am tiuw convinc'd, and none will dora 
Within thy labours to pfptetid «. Bliare. 
Thou host not misfl'd one I bony hi tliat coutd be fit, 
And all tlmt was improper dout cirnit : 
So Uiat no room is here for writers left. 
But to detect their iffnomnce or theft. 


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That majesty which thioo^h thj work doth rei^ n 
Drawi the doToat, deterring the profane. 
And things divine thoa treat'st of in such state 
As them preserves, and thee, inviolate. 
At once delight and horror on us seize, 
Thon sing'st with so much gravity and ease, 
And above hnman flight dost soar aloft 
With plmne so strong, so equal, and so soft. 
The bird nam'd from that paradise yon sing 
So never flags, but always keeps on wing. 

Where could'st thou words of such a compass find ? 
Whence furnish such a vast expanse of mind ? 
Just heav*n thee like Tiieaias to requite 
Rewards with prophecy thy loss of sight. 

Well mightest thou scorn thy readers to allure 
With tinkling rhyme, of thy own sense secure ; 
While the town-bayes writes all the while and spells, 
And like a pack-horse tires without his bells : 
Their fancies like our bushy points appear, 
The poets tag them, we for fashion wear. 
I too, transported by the mode, ofiend. 
And while I meant to praise thee, must oomniend.i 
Thy verse created like thy theme sublime, 
In number, weight, and measure, needs not rhyme. 


1 See note la Life, p. Uxvlt. 
VOL. I. R 


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Digitized by VjOOQIC 


Digitized by VjOOQIC — 



" Tke measure b English Heroic Verse mthoat Rime, ai 
that of Homer in Greek, and of Virgil in Latin ; Rirtle being 

no necessary Adjunct or trup Orntiinent of Poera or good 
Verse J in longer Works especially, but the Inveution of a 
barbarous Age, to set off wretched matter and lame Meeter j 
grac't indeed since by the use of some famous modern Poets, 
carried away by Custom^ but much to thir own ?exation, 
hindrance, and constraint, to express many things otherwise, 
and for the most part worse, tlien else they would Iiare ex- 
prest them. Not without cause, therefore, some both Italian 
and Spanish Poets of prime note, hmva^gcjected Rime both 
in longer and shorter Works, as have also, long since, our 
best English Tragedies, as a thing of itself, to ail judicious 
eares, triveal and of no true musical delight ; which con- 
sists only in apt Numbers, fit quantity of Syllables, and the 
sense Tarioualy drawn out from one verse into another^ not 
In the jingling sound of like endings, a fault avoyded by the 
learned Ancients both in Poetry and aU good Oratory. This 
neglect then of Rime^ so little is to be taken for a defect, 
though it may seem so perhaps to vulgar readers, that it 
rather is to be eateem'd an example set^ the first in English, 
of ancient liberty recovered to Heroic Poem from the ironble- 
flom and modern bondage of Rimeing." 

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This fint book propoaes, first in brief, the whole subject, man 
disobedience, and the loss thereupon of Paradise, wherein he wa* 
placed. Then touches the prime cause of his fall, the serpent, or 
rather, Satan in the serpent ; who, revolting from God, and drawing 
to his side many legpons of Angels, w^s by the command of Crod 
driven out of heaven with all his crew into the great deep. Which 
action passed over, the Poem hastes into the midst of things, pre- 
senting Sat4l with his Angels now fallen into hell, described here, 
not in the centre, for heaven and earth may be supposed as yet not 
made, certainly not yet accursed, but in a place of utter darkness, fit- 
liest called Chaos : Here 9atan with his Angels lying on the burning 
lake, thunderstruck and astonished, after a certain space recovers, as 
firom conAiaion, calls up him who next in order and dignity lay by 
him : they confer of their miserable faU. Satan awakens all his 
legions, who lay till then in the same manner confounded ; they rise ; 
tiieir numbers, array of battle, their chief leaders named, according 
to the idols known afterwards in Canaan and the countries adjoining. 
To these Satan directs his speecli, comforts them with (lope yet of 
regaining heaven, but tells them ItMy of a new world and new kind 
of creature to be created, according to an ancient prophecy or report 
m heaven : for that Angels were long before this visible creation, 
was the opinion of many ancient Fathers. To find out the truth of 
this prophecy, and what to determine thereon, he refers to a fbll 
council. What his associates thence attempt Pandaemoniiun, the 
palace of Satan, rises, suddenly built out of the deep: the infernal 
Peers there sit in council. 

VOL. I. ] 


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Of Man's first disobedience and the fruit 
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste 
Brought death into the world and all our woe, 
With loss of Eden^ till one greater ]^an 
Restore us and regain the blissful seat, 5 

Sing heavenly Muse, that on the secret top 
Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire 
That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed, 
In the beginning how the heavens and earth 
Rose out of Chaos ; or if Sion hill lo 

Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flow'd 
Fast by the oracle* of God ; I thence 
Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song. 
That with no middle flight intends to soar 
Above th' Aonian mount, while it pursues ^ 15 

Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme. 

And chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer 
Before all temples th' upright heart and pure, 
Instruct me, for thou know'st ; thou from the first 
Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread ao 
Dove-like sat'st brooding on the vast abyss, 
And mad'st it pregnant : what in me is dark 
Illumine,- what is low raise and support ; 
That to the height of this great argument 

^^ V. Ariosto Orl. Fur. c. L st 2. Orlando Innam. di BoUupdo^ 
xifac. da Berni, lib. ii c. zzz. st 1. 

^ Com' awien, che ne in prasa i ddta, o tn rima 
CosOj che non sia stata detta prima.' BawUy Pearce. 
u hutrud] Theoc. Id. zxiL lia 

ahth dad. <rd yA^ olaOa. MwUm, 


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BOOK I. « a 

I may assert eternal Providence, 96 

And justify the ways of God to men. 

Say first, for heav'n hides nothing from thy view, 
Nor the deep tract of hell ; say first, what cause 
Mov'd our grand parents in that h^py state. 
Favoured of heaven so highly, to fall off 90 

From their Creator, and transgress his will 
For one restraint, lords of the world besides ? 
Who first seduc'd them to that foul revolt ? 
Th' infernal serpent ; he it was, whose guile, 
Stirr'd up with envy and revenge, deceived 85 

The mother of mankind, what time his pride 
Had cast him out from heaven, with all his host 
Of rebel angels, by whose aid aspiring 
To set himself in glory above his peers. 
He trusted to have equalled the Most High, 40 

If he opposed ; and with ambitious aim 
Against the throne and monarchy of God 
Rais'd impious war in heaven and battle proud. 
With vain attempt. Him the almighty Power 
HurPd headlong flaming from th' ethereal sky, 45 
With hideous ruin and combustion, down 
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell 
In adamantine chains and penal fire. 
Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms. 
Nine times the space that measures day and night so 

» Wko] V. Horn. E. L 8. Hume. 

^ adamantine] y. SpenBor. ^ Together link'd in adamaniku 
chama: See Todd's MU. 


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To mortal men, he with his horrid crew 

Lay vanquish'dy rolling in the fiery gulf, 

Confounded though immortal ; but his doom 

Resery'd him to more wrath ; for now the thought 

Both of lost happipess and lasting pain 66 

Torments him ; round he throws his baleful eyes, 

That witnessed huge afSiction and dismay, 

Mix'd with obdurate pride and stedfast hate. 

At once, as far as angels ken, he yiews 

The dismal situation waste and wild ; eo 

A dungeon horrible, on all sides round 

As one great furnace, flam'd ; yet firom those flames 

No light, but rather darkness visible 

Serv'd only to discover sights of woe. 

Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace 66 

And rest can never dwell, hope never comes. 

That comes to all ; but torture without end 

Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed 

With ever-burning sulphur unconsum'd. 

Such place eternal justice had prepared to 

For those rebellious; here their prison ordain'd 

In utter darkness, and their portion set 

As far remov'd from God and light of heaven, 

As from the centre thrice to th' utmost pole. 

O how unlike the place from whence they fell ! 75 

83 darkness vistUe] v. Senecs Ep. 57. de Crypt NeapoL * Nihil 
illis fiiucibiis obscurius; qu8B nobis piestant, ut non per tenebras 
videamuSf sed ut tp^oj.' BerdL MS. 

« hispt] Conpare Jer. Taylor^s Conteaqplatioiis, p. 311, aai see 
Todd's J^oU, p. 18. 


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BOOK I. 6 

There the companions of his fall, o'erwhelm'd 
With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire* 
He soon discerns, and welt'ring by his side 
One next himself in power, and next in crime, 
Long after known in Palestine, and nam'd 80 

Beelzebub : To whom th' arch-enemy, 
And thence in heav'n calFd Satan, with bold words 
Breaking the horrid silence, thus began. 

If thou beest he — ^But O how falPn ! how chang'd 
From him, who in the happy realms of light, 85 

Cloath'd with transcendent brightness, didst outshine 
Myriads, though bright ! If he, whom mutual league, 
United thoughts and counsels, equal hope 
And hazard in the glorious enterprize, 
Join'd with me once, now misery hath join'd 90 

In equal ruin : into what pit thou seest 
From what height falPn, so much the stronger proy'd 
He with his thunder ; and till then who knew 
The force of those dire arms ? yet not for those, 
Nor what the potent victor in his rage 96 

Can else inflict, do I repent, or change, 
Though chang'd in outward lustre, that fix'd mind 
And high disdain from sense of injur'd merit, 
That with the Mightiest rais'd me to contend, 
And to the fierce contention brought along lOO 

Innumerable force of spirits arm'd, 

» Isaiah, xiv. 12. Virg. Mn. iL 274. 

' Hei mihi ! quails erat ! quantum mutatus ab illo !' JSTewtoTU 
w hdgh] Spens. F. Queen, b. L c. i. s. 19. < grief, and high dM- 



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TTiat durst dislike his reign ; and, me preferring, 

His utmost power with adverse power qppos'd 

In dubious battle on the plains of heaven, 

And shook his throne. What though the field be lost ? 

All is not lost ; th' unconquerable will, 

And study of revenge, immortal hate 

And courage never to submit or yield. 

And what is else not to be overcome ; 

That glory never shall his wrath or might no 

Extort from me : to bow and sue for grace 

With suppliant knee, and deify his power, 

Who from the terror of this arm so late 

Doubted his empire, that were low indeed, 

That were an ignominy and shame beneath lis 

This downfal ; since by fate the strength of gods 

And this empyreal substance cannot fail ; 

Since through experience of this great event. 

In arms not worse, in foresight much advanced. 

We may with more successful hope resolve 120 

To wage by force or guile eternal war, 

Irreconcileable to our grand foe. 

Who now triumphs, and in th' excess of joy 

Sole reigning holds the tyranny of heaven. 

So spake th' apostate angel, though in pain, 125 
Vaunting aloud, but rack'd with deep despair : 
And him thus answer'd soon his bold compeer. 

O Prince, O chief of many throned Powers, 
That led th' imbattell'd seraphim to war 
Under thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds 130 


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BOOK I. 7 

Fearless, endanger'd heaven's perpetual King, 

And put to proof his high supremacy , 

Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate ; 

Too well I see and rue the dire event. 

That with sad overthrow and foul defeat 135 

Hath lost us heaven, and all this mighty host 

In horrible destruction laid thus low, 

As far as gods and heavenly essences 

Can perish : for the mind and spirit remains 

Invincible, and vigour soon returns, i40 

Though all our glory extinct, and happy state 

Here swallo^'d up in endless misery. 

But what if he our conqueror, (whom I now 

Of force believe almighty, since no less 

Than such could have o'erpower'd such force as ours,) 

Have left us this our spirit and strength entire, 

Strongly to suffer and support our pains ? 

That we may so suffice his vengeful ire. 

Or do him mightier service, as his thralls 

By right of war, whate'er his business be, 150 

1^ perpetual] Consult Newton's note on the word ^perpetuaU 
^^ mind and epirU] So Satan in the Adanras Exsol of Grotins, p. 
38, ed. Lauder. 

* Abstnlit Bortem Deus 

Qiuun potuity aniTnia pnstuium mansit decnsi 
£t cor, profunda providum sapientia ; 
Sunt reliqua nobis regna, sunt Yires sue, 

Multa et potestas' 

^^ BwmciUe] y. iEschyli Prometheus, ver. 1060. 

^Eg 18 xihuyop 

T^Lfftaqov d(fdrjy ^tiffste difiag 
Tbd/M^y, ^rdyn^g ariq^cRg Slvatg, 


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Here in the heart of hell to wotk. in fire, 

Or do his errands in the gloomy deep : 

What can it then avail, though yet we feel 

Strength undiminish'd, or «temal being 

To undergo eternal punishment ? 156 

Whereto with speedy words th' arch-fiend reply'd. 

FalPn cherub, to be weak is miserable, 
Doing or suffering : but of this be sure, 
To do ought good never will be our task. 
But ever to do ill our sole delight, 160 

As being the contrary to his high will. 
Whom we resist. If then his providence 
Out of our evil seek to bring forth good. 
Our labour must be to pervert that end. 
And out of good still to find means of evil ; 166 

Which oft-times may succeed, so as perhaps 
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb 
His inmost counsels from their destined aim. 
But see ! the angry victor hath recalPd 
His ministers of vengeance and pursuit 170 

Back to the gates of heaven: the sulphurous hail, 
Shot after us in storm, o'erblown hath laid 
The fiery surge, that from the precipice 
Of heaven receiv'd us falling, and the thunder, 
Wing'd with red lightning and impetuous rage, 175 
Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now 
To bellow through the vast and boundless deep. 

1^ Doing or suffering] 'Quodvis pati, quidvis &ceie.' Plauti 
Miles, y. 9. See Priceum ad Apulei Apolog. p. 165. 
^77 To beOoui] See Hemy More'0 Poems, p. 314. 
< The hoaise beUomng of the thunder.' 


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BOOK I. 9 

Let us not slip th' occasion, whether scorn 

Or satiate fiiry yield it from our foe* 

Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild, 180 

The seat of desolation, void of light. 

Save what the glimmering of these livid flames 

Casts pale and dreadful ? thither let us tend 

From off the tossing of these fiery waves ; 

There rest, if any rest can harbour there ; 185 

And, reassembling our afflicted powers, 

Consult how we may henceforth most offend 

Our enemy; our own loss how repsdr ; 

How overcome this dire calamity ; 

What reinforcement we may gain from hope ; 190 

If not, what resolution from despair. 

Thus Satan talking to his nearest mate. 
With head up-lift above the wave, and eyes 
That sparkling blaz'd ; his other parts besides 
Prone on the flood, extended long and large, 195 

Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge 
As whom the fables name of monstrous size, 
Titanian, or Earth-bom, that warr'd on Jove, 
Briareiis, or Typhon, whom the den 
By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast 200 

Leviathan, which God of all his works 
Created hugest that swim th' ocean stream : 

wi wnd] Dante Inf. c'v. 38, 

* Lnogo d'ogni Ince muto.* Todd. 

9M norbecut] < .^uoreo Bunflem per litora monBtro.' 

VaL Flacc. iv. 700. 

VOL. I. 2 


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Him haply slumb'ring on the Norway foam 

The pilot of some small night-fomider'd skiff 

Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell, 906 

With fixed anchor in his scaly rind 

Moors by his side under the lee, while night 

Invests the sea, and wished mom delays : 

So stretch'd out huge in length the arch-fiend lay, 

Chain'd on the burning lake, nor ever thence 210 

Had risen or heav'd his head, but that the will 

And high permission of all-ruling heaven 

Left him at large to his own dark designs ; 

si^ Deeming some island] At Sir William Druiy's house in Haw- 
stead in Suffolk (built in regn. Elizab.), is a closet with painted 
pannels of the age of James I. One (no. 96.) is a ship that has 
anchored on a whale which is in motion. The motto, ' nusquam tuta 
fides.' See Culli0n^s Hut of HawsUad, p. 164, where is an engraving 

9i» %dand\ Thus Dionysii Perieg. 598. 

XiJTsa 6i¥sg ixovo^y, iqvdqatov fioxdi ndrroVf 

Wqeoiv ^X«|?dT0M7»y lo»x<5Ta. 
And so in the Orlando Innam. of Boiardo, rifac. da Bemi, lib. iL canto 
ziiL Stan. 60. 

< n dosso sol mostrava ch' k maggiore 

Ch' undici passi, ed anche pii^ d'altezza, 

E yeramente, a chi la guarda, pare * 

Un' isoletta nel mezzo del mare.' 
Compare also Avieni Disc. Orbis, p. 784-5, and Pia Hilaria, p. 93. 
< BasQ affinns that whales are equal to the greatest mountains, and 
their backs, when they show above the wster, Uhe to uiands.^ v. 
Brtrewood on Losngjiogea^ p. 133. 

an IfwesU] v. Stat Theb. lib. v. 51. 

< tellurem prozimus umbri^ 

Vestit Athos.' 


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BOOK I. 11 

That with reiterated crimes he might 
Heap on himself damnation, while he sought 2i5 
Evil to others, and enrag'd might see 
How all his malice serv'd but to bring forth 
Infinite goodness, grace, and mercy shewn 
On man by him seduc'd ; but on himself 
•Treble confusion, wrath, and vengeance pour'd. 290 
Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool 
His mighty stature ; on each hand the flames 
Driven backward slope their pointing spires, and 

In billows leave i' th' midst a horrid vale. 
Then with expanded wings he steers his flight 225 
Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air, 
That felt unusual weight, till on dry land 
He lights, if it were land that ever bum'd 
With solid, as the lake with liquid, fire ; 
And such appeared in hue, as when the force 230 

Of subterranean wind transports a hill 
Tom from Pelorus, or the shattered side 
Of thundering -Etna, whose combustible 
And fuePd entrails thence conceiving fire, 
Sublim'd with mineral fury, aid the winds, . 235 
And leave a singed bottom, all involved 
With stench and smoke : such resting found the sole 
Of unbless'd feet. . Him foUow'd his next mate. 
Both glorying to have scap'd the Stygian flood, 

■B Pdorua] See Dante, Paradiso, c. 8. ver. 68. 
'Tia Pachino e Peloro sopra 1 golfo, 
Che riceve da Euro maggior briga«' 


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As gods, and by their own recover'd strength, 840 
Not by the sufferance of supernal power. 

Is this the region, this the soil, the clime, 
Said then the lost arch-angel, this the seat 
That we must change for heav'n, this mournful gloom 
For that celestial light ? be it so, since he, 245 

Who now is Sov'reign, can dispose and bid • 

What shall be right : farthest from him is best. 
Whom reason hath equalPd, force hath made supreme 
Above his equals* Farewell happy fields, 
Where joy for ever dwells : hail horrors ; hail 250 
Infernal world ; and thou profoundest hell 
Receive thy new possessor ; one who brings 
A mind not to be chang'd by place or time. 
The mind is its own place, and in itself 
Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven. 255 
What matter where, if I be still the same. 
And what I should be, all but less than he 
Whom thunder hath made greater ? here at least 
We shall be free ; th' Almighty hath not built 
Here for his emy, will not drive us hence : 200 

Hese we may reign secure, and in my choice 
To \eign is worth ambition, though in hell : 
Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven. 

s^ rteover'd strengOi] Revigorate, lesumed, recovering, reviving 
■elf-raised, self-recovered. JBenit. Cof^'. MSS, 
Ml st^erance] Compare Horn. Od. iv. 503. 

^ Q dixrjrt delay q>vyieiv fdya Xtffjfia daX&acnjg. 
9W Better] See iEschyli Prometheus, ver. 976. 


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BOOK I. 18 

But wherefore let we then our faithfiil friends, 

Th' associates and copartners of our loss, 266 

Lie thus astonish'd on th' oblivious pool. 

And call them not to share with us their part 

In this unhappy mansion ; or once more 

With rallied arms to try what may be yet 

Regained in heaven, or what more lost in hell ? S70 

So Satan spake, and him Beelzebub 
Thus answer'd : Leader of those armies bright, 
Which but th' Omnipotent none could have foil'd. 
If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge 
Of hope in fears and dangers, heard so oft S75 

In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge 
Of battle when it rag'd in all assaults 
Their surest signal, they vnll soon resume . 

New courage and revive, though now they he f f 

Grov'ling and prostrate on yon lake of fire. 
As we erewhile, astounded and amaz'd ; 
No wonder, fallen such a pernicious highth. 

He scarce had ceas'd, when the superior fiend 
Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield, 
Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, 966 

Behind him cast ; the broad circumference 
Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb 
Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views 
At ev'ning, from the top of Fesole 

^ esp^ gtof] See Henry More's Poems (Inf. of Worlds): st 91. 
' But that experiment of the t^pUck f^ioMtJ 
and Davenont's Gondibert, p. 188. 

Or reach with nfgilick te6e« the ragged moon* 


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Or in Valdamo, to descry new lands, 290 

Rivers or mountains in her spotty globe. 

His spear, to equal which the tallest pine, 

Hewn on Norwegian hills to be the mast 

Of some great ammiral, were but a wand, 

He walk'd with to support uneasy steps 295 

Over the burning marie, not like those steps 

On heaven's azure, and the torrid clime 

Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with &e. 

Nathless he so indur'd, till on the beach 

Of that inflamed sea he stood, and calPd soo 

His legions, angel forms, who lay entranc'd. 

Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks 

In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades 

High overarched imbow'r ; or scattered sedge 

Afbat, when with fierce winds Orion arm'd 305 • 

tfkih vex'd the Red-sea coast, whose waves overthrew 

Busiris and his Memphian chivalry, 

^ ffuu^] See Lucilii Sat lib. xv. 1. p. 132. 

* porro huic majus bacillum 

Quam malus navi in corbitll maximus ulUu' 
And Ovid Metam. xiii. 78a 

< Cui postquam pinus, baculi que pn&buit usum, 
Ante pedes posita est, antennis apta ferendis.' 
Cowley's Davideis, lib. iiL ver. 47. 

* His spear the trank was of a lofty tree, 
Which nature meant some tall ship's mast to be.' 

Keysler's Travels, iL 117. * They shew here the mast of a ship, 
which the common people believe to be the lance of Rolando the 
great' Pope probably mistook the sense, when, in Horn. D. xiiL 494, 
he says, 

* Or pine, fit mast for some great admiraL' 

Mr. Dyce refers to Quintus Sm3rmfleu8, lib. v. ver. 116. 


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BOOK I. ^. 15 

While with perfidious hatred they pursu'd 
The. sojourners of Goshen, who beheld 
From the safe shore their floating carcases 3io 

And broken chariot wheels : so thick bestrown 
Abject and lost lay these, covering the flood, 
Under amazement of their hideous change. 
He callM so loud, that all the hollow deep 
Of hell resounded : Princes, potentates, 3i5 

Warriors, the flower of heav'n, once yours, now lost. 
If such astonishment as this can seize 
Eternal spirits ; or have ye chos'n this place 
After the toil of battle to repose 
Your wearied virtue, for the ease you find 320 

To slumber here, as in the vales of heav'n ? 
Or in this abject posture have ye sworn 
To adore the conqueror ? who now beholds 
Cherub and seraph rolling in the flood 
With scattered arms and ensigns, till anon 386 

His swift pursuers from heaven gates discern 
Th' advantage, and descending tread us down 
Thus drooping, or with linked thunderbolts 
Transfix us to the botfpm of this gulf. 
Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen I 390 

They heard, and were abashed, and up they sprung 
Upon the wing, as when men wont to watch 
On duty, sleeping found by whom they dread, 
Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake. 
Nor did they not perceive the evil plight 336 

In which they were, or the fierce pains not feel ; 
Yet to their general's voice they soon obey'd, 


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Innumerable. As when the potent rod 

Of Amram's Son, in iElgypt's evil day, 

Wav'd round the coast up call'd a pitchy cloud 340 

Of locusts, warping on the eastern wind. 

That o'er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung 

Like night, and darkened all the land of Nile : 

So numberless were those bad angels seen 

Hovering on wing under the cope of hell, 345 

'Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires ; I 

Till, as a signal giv'n, th' uplifted spear 

Of theur great Sultan waving to direct 

Their course, in even balance down they light ! 

On the firm brimstone, and fill all the plain ; 350 ( 

A multitude like which the populous north 

Pour'd never from her frozen loins, to pass 

Rhene or the Danaw, when her barbarous sons 

Came like a deluge on the south, and spread 

Beneath Gibraltar to the Libyan sands. 355 

Forthwith from ev'ry squadron and each band 

The heads and leaders thither haste, where stood , 

Their great commander ; God-like shapes and forms 

Excelling human, princely dignities, I 

And powers, that erst in heaven sat on thrones ; seo I 

Though of their names in heavenly records now ] 

Be no memorial, blotted out and raz'd 

^ piUhydoud] j 

* No pitchy 8tx)nn wrapt up in swelling clouds.' j 

See SafUhf*a Chriafg Paaawfif p. 57 . 

3S3 Danaw] So Donne (Progr. of the Soul, st iL) p. 228. 

< At T»gu9, Po, Sene, Thames, and Danow dine.' { 

Digitized by VjOOQIC 


By their rebellion from the books of life. 
Nor had they yet among the sons of Eve 364 

Got them new names ; till wand'ring o'er the earth 
Through God's high sufferance for the trial of man, 
By falsities and lies the greatest part 
Of mankind they corrupted to forsake 
God their creator, and th' invisible 
Glory of him that made them to transform 370 

Oft to the image of a brute, adom'd 
With gay religions full of pomp and gold. 
And devils to adore for deities : 
Then were they known to men by various names, 
And various idols through the heathen world. 375 
Say, Muse, their names then known, who first, 
who last, 
Rous'd from the slumber on that fiery couch 
At their great emp'ror's call, as next in worth. 
Came singly where he stood on the bare strand. 
While the promiscuous crowd stood yet aloof. 8» 
The chief were those, who, from the pit of hell 
Roaming to seek their prey on earth, durst fix 
Their seats long after next the seat of God, 
Their altars by his altar, gods ador'd 
Among the nations round, and durst abide 886 

Jehovah thund'ring out of Sion, thron'd 

9^ mankind] po accented on the first syllable in Heywood^ 
fiieraichie, p. 11. 

* Tell me^O thou of Mankind most accurst.' 
^ whojbrsf] Horn. D. v. 703. 

Mvda Uwa n^oPf xiva (t^aiaxoy. Todd, 
VOL. I. 3 


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Between the cherubim ; jea, often plac'd 

Within his sanctuary itself their shrines, 

Abominations ; and with cursed things 

His holy rites and solemn feasts profan'd, 390 

And with their darkness durst affront his light. 

First Moloch, horrid king, besmear'd with blood 

Of human sacrifice, and parents' tears, 

Though for the noise of drums and dmbrels loud 

Their children's cries unheard, that past through fire 

To his grim idol. Him the Ammonite 396 

Worshiped in Rabba and her wat'ry plain, 

In Argob, and in Basan, to the stream 

Of utmost Arnon. Nor content with such 

Audacious neighbourhood, the wisest heart 400 

Of Solomon he led by fraud to build 

His temple right against the temple of God, 

On that opprobrious hill, and made his grove 

The pleasant valley of Hinnon, Tophet thence 

And black Gehenna call'd, the type of hell. 406 

Next Chemos, th' obscene dread of M oab's sons, 

From Aroer to Nebo, and the wild 

Of southmost Abarim ; in Hesebon 

And Horonaim, Seon's realm, beyond 

The flowery dale of Sibma clad with vines, 4io 

And Eleale, to th' Asphaltic pool : 

Peor his other name, when he entic'd 

Israel in Sittim, on their march from Nile, 

To do him wanton rites, which cost them woe. 

Yet thence his lustful orgies he enlarged 4i6 

£ven to that hill of scandal, by the grove 



BOOK L 19 

Of Moloch homicidey lust hard by hate ; 

Till good Josiah drove them thence to hell. 

With these came they, who, from the bordering flood 

Of old Euphrates to the brook that parts 490 

£gypt from Syrian ground, had general names 

Of Baalim and Ashtaroth, those male, 

These feminine : for spirits when they please 

Can either sex assume, or both ; so soft 

And uncompounded is their essence pure ; 496 

Not tied or manacled with joint or limb, 

Nor founded on the brittle strength of bones, 

Like cumbrous flesh ; but in what shape they choose, 

Dilated or condensed, bright or obscure. 

Can execute their aery purposes, 430 

And works of love or enmity fulfil. 

For those the race of Israel oft forsook 

Their living Strength, and unfrequented left ' 

His righteous altar, bowing lowly down 

To bestial gods ; for which their heads as low 436 

Bow'd down in battle, sunk before the spear 

Of despicable foes. With these in troop 

Came Astoreth, whom the Phoenicians calPd 

Astarte, queen of heaven, with crescent horns ; 

To whose bright image nighdy by the moon 440 

Sidonian virgins psiid their vows and songs ; 

In Sion also not unsung, where stood 

Her temple on th' ofiensive mountain, built 

By that uxorious king, whose heart though large, '^ 

^^hordering] v. Gen. xv. 18. Old Euphrates: v. Gen. iL 14 



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Beguil'd by fair idolatresses, fell us 

To idols foul. Thammuz came next behind, 

Whose annual wound in Lebanon allured 

The Syrian damsels to lament his fate 

In amorous ditties all a summer's day, 

While smooth Adonis from his native rock 450 

Ran purple to the sea, supposed with blood 

Of Thammu? yearly wounded : the love-tale 

Infected Sion's daughters with like heat, 

Whose wanton pas^ons in the sacred porch 

Ezekiel saw, when by the vision led 465 

His eyes surveyed the dark idolatries 

Of alienated Judah. Next came one 

Who moum'd in earnest, when the captive ark 

44B The Syrian damsels] Compare Bionis Idyll. L SSI 
*Aaa6ffU>y ^odanra ndair, xai nroTda xaiUvoo. 

4^ amorous diUies] dolorous ditties. BenUs MS. 

451 Ranpwph] Ov. Metam. xiL 111. 

Puipureus popular! cede Caicus 


See Maundrell^ Travels, p. 34. < We had the fortune to see what 
may be supposed to be the occasion of that opinion which Lucian 
relates concerning this river (Adonis, called by the Turks, Ibrahim 
Bassa,) viz. that this stream, at certain seasons of the year, espectaHy 
about the feast of Adonis, is of a bloody colour, which the Heathens 
looked upon as proceeding from a kind of sympathy in the river, for 
the death of Adonis. Something like this, we saw, actually came 
to pass, for the water was stained to a surprising redness, and as we 
observed in travelling, had discoloured the sea a great way into a 
reddish hue, occasioned doubtless by a sort of minium, or red earth, 
washed into the river by the violence of the rain, and not by any 
stain from Adorns' blood.' 

See also Milton's answer to Eikon Baa. p. 410 : 

< Let them who now mourn for him as fbr Tammuz.' 


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BOOK I. 21 

Maim'd his brute image, head and hands lopt off 

In his own temple, on the grunsel edge, 460 

Where he fell flat, and sham'd his worshippers : 

Dagon his name ; sea monster, upward man 

And downward fish : yet had his temple high 

Rear'd in Azotus, dreaded through the coast 

Of Palestine, in Grath, and Ascalon, 4^6 

And Accaron, and Graza's frontier bounds. 

Him foUow'd Rimmon, whose delightful seat 

Was fair Damascus, on the fertile banks 

Of Abbana and Pharphar, lucid streams. 

He also against the house of God was bold : 470 

A leper once he lost, and gain'd a king, 

Ahaz his sottish conqueror, whom he drew 

God's altar to disparage, and displace 

For one of Syrian mode, whereon to bum 

His odious offerings, and adore the gods 47!^ 

Whom he had vanquished. After these appear'd 

A crew, who under names of old renown, 

Osiris, Isis, Orus, and their train. 

With monstrous shapes and sorceries abus'd 

Fanatic ^gj^t and her priests, to seek 480 

Their wand'ring gods disguis'd in brutish forms. 

Rather than human. Nor did Israel 'scape 

Th' infection, when their borrowed gold composed 


*w grunsd edge] See Beaumont's Psyche, c. viii. st 136. 
* In Dagon's Temple down the idol fell, •" 
Quite broke his godship on the stronger selL' 
And Qnarles' Cmblems, p. 302, < and groundsild every floor.' 
Lisle has also used this word in his Trans), of Du Bartas, p. 96» <to 
lay the gransill-plot.' 


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The calf in Oreb ; and the rebel king 

Doubled that sin in Bethel and in Dan, 485 

Likening his Maker to the grazed ox, 

Jehovah, who in one night, when he pass'd I 

From Mgj^t marching, equal'd with one (Stroke 

Both her first-bom and all her bleating gods. I 

Belial came last, than whom a spirit more lewd 490 i 

Fell not from heaven, or more gross to love I 

Vice for itself: to him no temple stood 

Or altar smok'd ; yet who more oft than he 

In temples and at altars, when the priest 

Turns atheist, as did Eli's sons, who filPd 496 

With lust and violence the house of God ? ( 

In courts and palaces he also reigns, 

And in luxurious cities, where the noise 

Of riot ascends above their loftiest towers. 

And injury, and outrage : and when night 600 

Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons 

Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine. 

Witness the streets of Sodom, and that night 

In Gibeah, when the hospitable door 

Expos'd a matron to avoid worse rape. 505 

These were the prime in order and in might ; 
The rest were long to tell, though far renown'd, 
Th' Ionian gods, of Javan's issue, held 
Gods, yet confess'd later than heaven and earth, 

<w hUating] v. Exod. xiL 12. Numb. zxziiL 3> 4. and Virg. iEn. 
viii. 698. 

' Omnigenumque demn monstra, et latrator Anubis.' 



^ BOOK I. 23 

Their boasted parents. Titan, heaven's first-bom, sio 

With his enormous brood and birthright seiz'd 

By younger Saturn, he from mightier Jove, 

His own and Rhea's son, like measure found ; 

So Jove usurpmg reign'd : these first in Crete 

And Ida known ; thence on the snowy top 515 

Of cold Olympus rul'd the middle air, 

Their highest heaven ; or on the Delphian cliff, 

Or in Dodona, and through all4he bounds 

Of Doric land ; or who with Saturn old 

Fled over Adria to th' Hesperian fields sao 

And o'er the Celtic roam'd the utmost isles. 

All these and more came flocking ; but with looks 
Down-cast and damp, yet such wherein appear'd 
Obscure some glimpse of joy, to have found their chief 
Not in despair, to have found themselves not lost 535 
In loss itself; which on his count'nance cast 
Like doubtful hue : but he, his wonted pride 
Soon recollecting, with high words, that bore 
Semblance of worth not substance, gently rais'd 
Their fainting courage, and dispell'd their fears. 530 
Then straight commands, that at the warlike sound 
Of trumpets loud and clarions, be uprear'd 
His mighty standard : that proud honour claim'd 
Azazel as his right, a cherub tall ; 
Who forthwith from the glittering staff unfurl'd 635 
Th' imperial ensign, wliich, full high advanc'd, 
Shone like a meteor, streaming to the wind, 

51A snmoy] v. Horn; U. i. 420. xvui. 615. 

OMfinov vi<p6eviog, ATewlon, 


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With gems and golden lustre rich imblaz'd, 

Seraphic arms and trophies ; all the while 

Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds : 64o 

At which the universal host up sent 

A shout that tore hell's concave, and beyond 

Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night. 

All in a moment through the gloom were seen 

Ten thousand banners rise into the air ' 645 

With orient colours waving ; with them rose 

A forest huge of spears ; and thronging helms 

Appeared, and serried shields in thick array 

Of depth immeasurable : anon they move 

In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood 660 

Of flutes and soft recorders ; such as rais'd 

To highth of noblest temper heroes old 

Arming to battle ; and instead of rage 

Deliberate valor breath'd, firm, and unmov'd 

With dread of death to flight or foul retreat; 655 

Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage 

With solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase 

Anguish, and doubt, and fear, and sorrow, and pain, 

From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they, 

Breathing united force, with fixed thought 660 

s^ Dorian mood] See VaL Maximus, Lib. iL c. 6. §. 2. < Ejusdem 
(SportaniB) civitatis exercitus non ante ad dimicandum descendere 
Bolebant, quam tibie concentu, et anapiesti pedis modulo cohorta- 
tionis calorem animo traxissent, vegeto et crebio ictus Bono.' And 
Cic. Tusc. Qufist iL 16. < Spartiatarum, quorum procedit moia ad 
tibiam, nee adhibetur uUa sine Anapestis pedibus hortatio.* 

»i soft recorders] See Giles Fletcher, Eclg. 1. 

^ And while the sad Recorder sweetly plains.' 


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BOOK I. 85 

Mov'd on in silence to soft pipes, that charm'd 
Their painful steps o'er the burnt soil ; and now 
Advanced in view they stand, a horrid front 
Of dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guise 
Of warriors old with order'd spear and shield, 66$ 
Awaiting what command their mighty chief 
Had to impose : he through the armed files 
Darts his experienc'd eye, and soon traverse 
The whole battalion views ; their order due, 
Their visages and stature as of gods ; std 

Their number last he sums. And now his heart 
Distends vidth pride, and hardening in his strength 
Glories ; for never, since created man. 
Met such imbodied force, as nam'd with these 
Could merit more than that small infantry 675 

Warr'd on by cranes ; though all the giant brood 
Of PUegra with th' heroic race were joined 
That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side 
Mix'd vnth auxiliar gods ; and what resounds 

967 armed fun] Tead < ranked.' See book yL 840. 
' Then down their idle weapons drop.' 
How then could they have them here ? — Ben&. MS* 

675 smdU tt^faniry] See Basilides Athenei, ix. 43. Who calls the 
Pigmies fuxgo^g Ardgag : of (Uftqol, <pfiGiv, drSQSS ol tatg y^^nMf 
9wt7toleftovyT6g, See also Julioni Anticens. Epigr. iiL Bfg tipa 
fUMgdy, ed. Brunck, voL ill. p. 9. 

A2fiaTi nvy/iaiuv 'ffiofdytj yiqavog. 
and Ovid. Past vi. 176. 

< Nee, qosB Pygmeo sanguine gaudet, avem.' 
Consult Millin's Monum. Inedit L 171, and Boissonade to Philoetiat 
p. 529. Also Plin. Nat. Hist viL < PygnuBi, quoe a gruibus infestari 
Homeras quoque prodidit' (Horn. n. iiL v. 7.) 

TOL. I. 4 


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In fable or romance of Uther's son, 580 

Begirt with British and Armoric knights ; 

And all who since, baptis'd or infidel, 

Jousted in Aspramont or Montalban, 

Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond, 

Or whom Biserta sent from Afric shore, 586 

When Charlemain with all his peerage fell 

By Fontarabbia. Thus far these beyond 

Compare of mortal prowess, yet observ'd 

Their dread commander : he, above the rest 

In shape and gesture proudly eminent, 690 

Stood like a tower ; his form had yet not lost 

All her original brightness, nor appear'd 

Less than arch-angel ruin'd, and th' excess 

Of glory obscur'd : as when the sun new-ris'n 

Looks through the horizontal misty air, 696 

Shorn of his beams ; or from behind the moon^ 

In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds 

On half the nations, and with fear of change 

»i Stood Uke a lower] See Statii Theb. iiL 356. 

^Bello me, credite, belloi 

Ceu turrim validam — 
See also D Purgatorio of Dante, v. 14. < Sta come tone fenna:' it 
is also used in the Orlando Innamorato. Mr. Dyce refers to Q. Smyr- 
nsns, lib. iii. ver. 63. 

»* a$ when (he nm] See Dante, H Purg. c. xxx. ver. 25. 
' £ la faccia del Sol nascere ombrata, 
SI che, per temperanza di vapori 
L' occhio lo soetenea lunga fiata.' 
fiw/ear qf chamge] See Theb. Statii, L ver. 708. «Mutent qtw 
Sceptn Comete,' Val. Place. Arg. lib. vi. ver. 608. ^fetales ad 


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Perplexes monarchs : darken'd so, yet shone 
Above them all th' arch-angel : but his face 600 

Deep scars of thunder had mtrench'd, and care 
Sat ofl his faded cheek, Init under brows 
Of daantless courage, and considerate pride 
Waiting revenge ; cruel his eye, but cast 
Signs of remoHje and passion to behold fl05 

The tellows of his crime, the followers rather, 
(Far other once beheld in bliss,) condemned 
For ever now to have their lot in pain ; 
Miilioas of spirits for his fault amerc'd 
Of heaven, and from eternal splendors flung 010 

For his revolt, yet faithful how Uiey stood » 
Their glory wither'd : as when heaven's fire 
Hath scathM the forest oaks or mountain pines, 
With singed top their stately growth, though bare, 
Stands on the blasted heath. He now prepared 615 
To speak \ whereat their doubled ranks they bend 
From wing to wing, and half inclose hiin round 
With all his peers : attention held them mute. 
Thrice he assay'd^ and thrice in spite of scora 

Tegna injusta Come be.' And Craahaw'a Btcpa ia the Temple, p. 59* 

' Staring Coraetir, thai look kingdotM dead.' 
See hit Tutor A, GilFit Poems, p. 5. 

O"* amerced] See Quarlea* Divme Pooina, p» 18, 

* T' avoid the Nmevitee do I amerce 

*^0 fifing] See Beamnont'i Pflyche^ c. xx. fit 144. 

* And sighed and eobb*d to think whence he was fiung^ 
BW ^mr sUdfi^ growth] See Yoiinj^'e Ni^ht Thoughte, N» 5. 

* Aa when seme atately growth of oak or pine-' 

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Tears, sach as ai^els weep, burst forth ; at last eao 
Words interwove with sighs found out their way. 

O myriads of immortal spirits, O powers 
Matchless, but with th' Almighty, and that strife 
Was not inglorious, though th' event was dire, 
As this place testifies, and this dire change ess 

Hateful to utter : but what power of mind. 
Foreseeing or presaging, from the depth 
Of knowledge past or present, could have fear'd. 
How such united force of gods, how such 
As stood like these, could ever know repulse ? 638 
For who can yet believe, though after loss, 
That all these puissant legions, whose exile 
Hath emptied heav'n, shall fail to reascend 
Self-rais'd, and repossess their native seat ? 
For me, be witness all the host of heaven, 68S 

If counsels different or danger shunn'd 
By me have lost our hopes : but he, who reigns 
Monarch in heaven, till then as one secure 
Sat on his throne, upheld by old repute. 
Consent, or custom, and his regal state 640 

Put forth at full, but still his strength conceaPd, 
Which tempted our attempt, s^nd wrought our fall. 
Henceforth his might we know, and know our own. 
So as not either to provoke, or dread 
New war, provok'd ; our better part remains 645 

W Tean] Compare Xenoph. Anabas. 1. iiLS. « JB'wyiJyayfii' ix- 

k<n6g, oi da 6(fort8g i6oc6fial;or xal iat6jtwv, sTra Ue^s t&deJ 
•« ienqiUd] SylverteVs Du Bartaa, p. 827. 

* She dared, and did attempt to tempt me too.' Todd, 


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BOOK L 29 

To work in close design, by fraud or guilei 

What force effected not ; that he no less 

At length from us may find, who overcomes 

By force, hath overcome but half his foe. 

Space may produce new worlds, whereof so rife 66o 

There went a fame in heaven, that he ere long 

Intended to create, and therein plant 

A generation, whom his choice regard 

Should favour equal to the sons of heaven : 

Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps ess 

Our first eruption, thither or elsewhere ; 

For this infernal pit shall never hold 

Celestial spirits in bondage, nor th' abyss 

Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts 

Full counsel must mature : peace is despair'd ; eoo 

For who can think submission? War then, War 

Open or understood, must be resolv'd. 

He spake : and to confirm his words outflew 
Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs 
Of mighty cherubim ; the sudden blaze M6 

Far round Ulumin'd hell : highly they rag'd 
Against the highest, and fierce with grasped arms 
Clash'd on their sounding shields the din of war, 
Hurling defiance toward the vault of heav'n. 

M9 vaiuU of heaven] Doctor Pearce approves BenHey's conjecture, 
* iralls of heayen/ and says the emendation is good. Bat I must 
diflTer fix>m the opinions of both critics, and consider that this reading 
wonld much impair the beauty of the passage. 

< Clashed on their fourultng shields the din of war. 
Hulling defiance toward the vmiU of heaven,' 
which collected and reveiberated the dMh of the shidUk 


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There stjood a hill not far, whose grisly top m 
Belch'd fire and roUmg smoke ; the rest entire 
Shone with a glossy scurf, undoubted sign 
That in his womb was hid metallic ore, 
The work of sulphur. Thither, wing'd with speed, 
A numerous brigad hasten'd ; as when bands 675 
Of pioneers, with spade and pickaxe arm'd, 
Forerun the royal camp, to trench a field, 
Or cast a rampart. Mammon led them on, 
Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell 
From heaven ; for ev'n in heaven his looks and thoughts 
Were alvrays downward bent, admiring more 
The riches of heav'n's pavement, trodden gold, 
Than aught divine or holy else enjoy'd 
In vision beatific. By him first 
Men also and by his suggestion taught 685 

Ransack'd the centre, and with impious hands 
Rifled the bowels of their mother earth 
For treasures better hid. Soon had his crew 
Open'd into the hill a spacious wound. 
And digg'd out ribs of gold. Let none admire 690 
That riches grow in hell ; that soil may best 
Deserve the precious bane. And here let those 
Who boast in mortal things, and wond'ring tell 
Of Babel and the works of Memphian kings. 
Learn how their greatest monuments of fame 695 

«7 Rjfled] V. Ovid Met L 138. 

* Itum est in viacen teiiey 

Quasque recondiderat, Stygiisqae admovent ambxis, 
Effodiuntur opes.' Hume 


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BOOK I. 31 

In strength and art are easily outdone 

By spirits reprobate, and in an hour 

What in an age they with incessant toil 

And hands innumerable scarce perform. 

Nigh on the plain in many cells prepar'd, too 

That underneath had veins of liquid fire 

Sluic'd from the lake, a second multitude 

With wond'rous art founded the massy ore, 

Severing each kind, and scumm'd the bullion dross. 

A third as soon had form'd within the ground 706 

A various mould, and from the boiling cells 

By strange conveyance fiU'd each hollow nook : 

As in an organ from one blast of wind 

To many a row of pipes the sound-board breathes. 

Anon out of the earth a fabpc huge no 

Rose, like an exhalation, with the sound 

Of dulcet sjmaphonies and voices sweet, 

Built like a temple, where pilasters round 

Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid 

With golden architrave ; nor did there want 715 

Cornice or frieze with bossy sculptures grav'n ; 

The roof was fretted gold. Not Babylon, 

Nor great Alcairo such magnificence 

Equall'd in all their glories, to inshrine 

Belus or Serapis their gods, or seat 790 

^^ A fforious motdd] < capacioas moulds.' BenU. MS. 
7U Rose] * Did like a shooting exhalation glide.' 

See MarUnot^s Hero and Leanderj p. 81. 
714 DmicpUkors] 

* There findest thoa some stately Doric firame.' 

See HaWs SaHrta^ ed. Singer, p. 133. 

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Their kings, when -Egypt with Assyria strove 

In wealth and luxury. Th' ascending pile 

Stood fixt her stately highth, and straight the doors, 

Op'ning their brazen folds, discover, wide 

Within, her ample spaces, o'er the smooth 7S5 

And level pavement : from the arched roof, 

Pendent by subtle magic, many a row 

Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed 

With naphtha and asphaltus, yielded light 

As from a sky. The hasty multitude 730 

Admiring enter'd, and the work some praise, 

And some the architect : his hand was known 

In heaven by many a tower'd structure high, 

Where scepter'd angels held their residence, 

And sat as princes ; whqm the supreme King 795 

Exalted to such power, and gave to rule, 

Each in his hierarchy, the orders bright 

Nor was his name unheard or unador'd 

In ancient Greece ; and in Ausonian land 

Men call'd him Mulciber ; and how he fell 740 

From heav'n they fabled, thrown by angry Jove 

Sheer o'er the crystal battlements ; from mom 

To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, 

A summer's day ; and with the setting sun 

748 crytioH hatOemcniB] See Beaumont's Psyche, czz. 110. 

* Much hi^er than the proudest InMemietd of the old heavens.' 
See Don Quixote, toL 3. p. 156, (trans. Shelton, 15hna 1731.) < I 
sav a piineeiy and sumptuous palace, whose walls and ftottlemenft 
seemed to he made of tranflfpaientcryaiat; andlffiltom Sylr. p. S33 

*f9iitun est Olympi, et regiem cryt U d Knm L* 


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BOOK I. 33 

Dfopt from the Zenith like a £adiing star, 745 

On Lemnos th' ^gean isie ; thus they relate, 

Erring ; for he with this rebellious rout 

Fell long before ; nor aught availM him now 

To have built in heaven high tow'rs ; nor did he scape 

By all his engines, but was headlong sent tso 

With his industrious crew to build in helL 

Mean while the winged haralds by command 
Of sovereign power, with awful ceremony 
And trumpets' sound, throughout the host proclaim 
A solemn council forthmth to be held 755 

At Pandsemonium, the high capitsd 
Of Satan and his peers : their summons calPd 
From every band and squared regiment X 
By place or choice the worthiest ; they anon 
With hundreds and with thousands trooping came 760 
Attended : all access was throng'd, the gates 
And porches wide, but chief the spacious hall, 
(Though like a cover'd field, where champions bold 
Wont ride in arm'd, and at the Soldan's chair 
Defi'd the best of Panim chivalry 765 

To mortal combat or career with lance,) 
Thick swarm'd, both on the ground »k1 in the air, 
Brush'd with the hiss of rustling wings. As bees 
In spring time, when the sun with Taurus rides, 

7» handds] Par. Loift, Ist ed. Steey«ai' Sbake^ (PerioleB) ed. 
1793, vol. xiiL p. 489. 
WB Taurua] v. Virg. Georg. i. 217. 

< Candidus auratia aperit com cbniilrai annum 
Taurus.' Hume, 
VOL. I. 5 


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Pour forth their populous youth about the hive 770 

In clusters ; they among fresh dews and flowers 

Fly to and fro, or on the smoothed plank, 

The suburb of their straw-built citadel. 

New rubb'd with balm, expatiate, and confer 

Their state afiairs : so thick the aery crowd 775 

Swarm'd and were straiten'd ; till, the signal giv'n, 

Behold a wonder ! they, but now who seem'd 

In bigness to surpass earth's giant sons, 

Now less than smallest dwarfs, in narrow room 

Throng numberless, like that Pygmean race 780 

Beyond the Indian mount, or fairy elves. 

Whose midnight revels, by a forest side. 

Or fountain, some belated peasant sees. 

Or dreams he sees, while over head the moon 

Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth 785 

Wheels her pale course; they, on their mirth and 

Intent, with jocund music charm his ear; 
At once vidth joy and fear his heart rebounds. 
Thus incorporeal spirits to smallest forms 
Reduced their shapes immense, and were at large, 790 
Though without number still, amidst the hall 
Of that infernal court. But far within, 

774 expaUaU] L e. walk abroad, v. Virg. Mil iv. 62. Cic Orat 
liL ^VtpnliBStacespaHarV Todd. 

^ dnanu] See Ap. Rhod. Are^. iv. 1479. Viig. JEd. yu 45a 
785 «WrM#] ▼. Hot. Ep. v. 49. 

( Non infideles arbitra 

Nox et Diana? Heyltn. 


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BOOK 1. 35 

And in their own dimensions like themselves. 
The great seraphic lords and cherubim 
In close recess and secret conclave sat, 795 

A thousand demi-gods on golden seats. 
Frequent and full. After short silence then 
And summons read, the great consult began. 


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Tbv consultation begun, Satan debates whether another battle be 
to be hazarded for the recovery of heaven : some advise it, others 
dissuade. A third proposal is preferred, mentioned before by Satan, 
to search the truth of that prophecy or tradition in heaven concemingr 
another world, and another kind of creature, equal, or not much 
inferior, to themselves, about this time to be created: their doubt 
who shall be sent on this difficult search : Satan their chief under- 
takes alone the voyage, is honoured and applauded. The council 
thus ended, the rest betake them several ways, and to several em- 
ployments, as their inclinations lead them, to entertain the time till 
SataQ return. He passes on his journey to hell gates, finds them 
shut, and who sat there to guard them, by whom at length they are 
opened, and discover to him the great gulf between hell and heaven : 
with what difficulty he passes through, directed by Chaos, the Power 
of that place, to the sight of this new world which he sought. 

High on a throne of royal state, which far 
Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, 
Or where the gorgeous east with richest hand 

I High] Compare with this the opening of the second book of 
Ovid's Metam. 

* Regia solis erat,' Slc. 

s Ormus] See View of Ormus, in Buckingham's Travels in As- 
syria, p. 428, 4to. 


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BOOK II. 87 

Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, 

Satan exalted sat, by merit rais'd * 5 

To that bad eminence ; and, from despair 

Thus high uplifted beyond hope, asfures 

Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue 

Vain war with heaven, and by success untaught 

His proud imaginations thus displayed. lo 

Powers and dominions, deities of heav'n ! 
For since no deep within her gulf can hold 
Immortal vigor, though oppress'd and fall'n, 
I give not heaven for lost : from this descent 
Celestial virtues rising will appear 15 

More glorious and more dread, than from no fall, 
And trust themselves to fear no second fate. 
Me though just right and the fix'd laws of heav'n 
Did first create your leader, next free choice, 
With what besides, in council or in fight, M 

Hath been achieved of merit ; yet this loss, 
Thus far at least recover'd, hath much more 
Established in a safe unenvied throne, 
Yielded with full consent The happier state 
In heaven, which follows dignity, might draw S5 

Envy from each inferior ; but who here 
Will envy whom the highest place exposes 
Foremost to stand against the Thunderer's aim 
Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share 

4 hcarbanc] Lacret lib. iL 500. <Barbarice Testes.' Euripid. 
Iph. Aul. 73. de Paride : 

X^va^ ta l&fta^f fioi^dgtf ;|fl4^ii/uaT«. 
SBd Virg. Mn. ii. 504. 


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Of endless pain ? Where there is then no good 30 

For which to strive, no strife can grow up there 

From faction ; for none sure will claim in hell 

Precedence, none, whose portion b so small 

Of present pain, that with ambitious mmd 

Will covet more. With this advantage then 35 

To union, and firm faith, and firm accord, 

More than can be in heaven, we now return 

To claim our just inheritance of old. 

Surer to prosper than prosperity 

Could have assurM us ; and by what best way, 40 

Whether of open war or covert guile, 

We now debate ; who can advise, may speak. 

He ceased ; and next him Moloch, scepter'd king. 
Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest spirit 
That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair : 45 
His trust was with th' Eternal to be deemed 
Equal in strength, and rather than be less 
Car'd not to be at all ; with that care lost 
Went all his fear : of God, or hell, or worse, 
He reck'd not ; and these words thereafter spake : 

^ our put tnAmtofice] See Crasbaw's Steps to the Temple, p. 64. 

' And for the neyer fading/elcb oflighij 
Myfmr ivktritanuy he confines me here :' 
and Beaumont's Psyche, c. L st 24. 

* Wast not enoogh against the righteous law 
Of primogeniture to throw us down, 
From that hrighi home which all the world does know 
Was by canfest inheritance our own.' 
^ hut fwiy] Compare Spenser's F. Queen, tIL tL 31. and IL zL 7. 


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BOOK II. 39 

My sentence is for open war : of wiles, 5i 

More unexpert, I boast not : them let those 
Contrive who need, or when they need, not now : 
For while they sit contriving, shall the rest. 
Millions that stand in arms and longing wait 56 

The signal to ascend, sit lingering here 
Heaven's fugitives, and for their dwelling-place 
Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame. 
The prison of his tyranny who reigns 
By our delay ? no, let us rather choose, eo 

Arm'd with hell flames and fury, all at once 
O'er heaven's lugh tow'rs to force resistless way, 
Turning our tortures into horrid arms 
Against the torturer ; when to meet the noise 
Of his almighty engine he shall hear 66 

Infernal thunder, and for lightning see 
Black fire and horror shot with equal rage 
Among his angels ; and his throne itself 
Mist with Tartarean sulphur and strange fire, 

M 9U amtnmng] See Milton's Prose Works, voL iL 380. iiL 24. 
* But to sit contriving.' 
87 Black fire] See JSschyli Prometheus, ver. 930. 
° Oc ^ xsgavrov xqiicraov iv(^aet gAAya, 
B^vrrig 0* "dnef^^dlloyTa xa^tsgdv xt^Ttov, 
and see Statii Theb. iv. 133. < furiarum lampade nigra.' Silv. L b. 
64. < Ailminis atrL' Lucan Ph. iL 301. ' ignes atros.' 
< I talk of flames, and yet I call hell dark ; 
Homes I confess they are, but Uaek.^ 
See M. Stevenson's Poems (1654), p. 113, (A Guesse at Hell.) 
w strange fire] See Nonni Dionysiaca, lib. xliv. ver. 153. 
El a X8 TteiQi/iaano xal 'fifiSTiQOto xeqavvov^ 
yrmahat, oJov %x^ x^vtog aikaq' odqaylov ydtq 
Baqfunigovg aittv&fiQag ifwv kax^K dytlrvnov ttv^. 




His own invented torments. But perhaps to 

The waj seems difficult and steep to scale 

With upright wing agmst a higher foe. 

Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench 

Of that forgetful lake benumb not stilly 

That in our proper motion we ascend 75 

Up to our native seat : desc^it and fall 

To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, 

When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear 

Insulting, and pursu'd us through the deep. 

With what compulsion and laborious flight so 

We sunk thus low ? th' ascent is easy then ; 

Th' event is fear'd ; should we again provcdie 

Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find 

To our destruction : if there be in hell 

Fear to be worse destroyed : what can be worse as 

Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemn'd 

In this abhorred deep to utter woe ; 

Where pain of unextinguishable fire 

Must exercise us without hope of end, 

The vassals of his anger, when the scourge 90 

Inexorable, and the torturing hour 

Calls us to penance ? more destroyed than thus 

We should be quite abolished and expire. 

What fear we then ? what doubt we to incense 

His utmost ire ? which, to the highth enrag'd, 95 

Will either quite consume us, and reduce 

To nothing this essential ; happier far, 

® exercise] Vex, trouble : t. Yirg. Georg. iv. 4s53. 

' Non te nnJlius exereent nummifl im.' A^upIom. 


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BOOK II. 41 

Than miserable to hare eternal being ; 

Or, if our substance be indeed divine, 

And cannot cease to be, we are at worst lOO 

On this side nothing ; and by proof we feel 

Our power sufficient to disturb hb heaven. 

And with perpetual inroads to alarm, 

Though inaccessible, his fatal throne : 

Which, if not victory, is yet revenge. 105 

He ended frowning, and his look denounc'd 
Desperate revenge and battle dangerous 
To less than gods. On th' other side up rose 
Belial, in act more graceful and humane ; 
A fairer person lost not heaven; he seem'd no 

For dignity compos'd and high exploit : 
But all was false and hollow ; though his tongue 
Dropp'd manna, and could make the worse a|^ar 
The better reas<Hi, to perplex and dash 
Maturest counsels ; for his thoughts were low ; ii5 
To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds 
Timorous and slothful : yet he pleas'd the ear, 
And with persuasive accent thus began. 

I should be much for open war, O Peers, 
As not behind in hate, if what was urg'd lao 

Main reason to persuade immediate war, 

n3 wane] YaL Flacc. Aig. lib. iiL ver. 645 

^ Ruisum instimulat, ducitque faveDtes 

Magnanimus Calydone satus ; potioribiLa ille 
Deteriora fovens, eemperque inversa tueri 

n4 better] t^ Uyov tdv ^rm nqdlxw n<MXv. BenU^* 

VOL. I. 6 


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Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast 

Ominous conjecture on the whole success ; 

When he, who most excels in fact of arms, 

In what he counsels and in what excels i85 

IMQstrustful, grounds his courage on despair 

And utter dissolution, as the scope 

Of all his aim, after some dire revenge. 

First, what revenge ? the tow'rs of heaven are filPd 

With armed watch, that render all access 130 

Impregnable ; oft on the bordering deep 

Encamp their legions, or with obscure wing 

Scout far and wide into the nealm of night, 

Scorning surprise. Or could we break our way 

By force, and at our heels all hell should rise, 135 

With blackest insurrection to confound 

Heaven's purest light, yet our great enemy 

All incorruptible would on his throne 

Sit unpolluted ; and th' ethereal mould 

Incapable of stain would soon expel 140 

Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire. 

Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope 

Is flat despair : we must exasperate 

Th' almighty Victor to spend all his rage, 

And that must end us, that must be our cure, i45 

To be no more : sad cure ; for who would lose. 

Though fidl of pain, this intellectual being, 

131 bcrdering (Uep\ See Wither's Campo Muse, p. 25. 

* And to possess the hordering hills.' 

1^ our hope] Shakesp. E. Hen. VI. act ii. scene iiL 

* Our hap is loss, our liope but 9ad dupaxr? Malone, 


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BOOK II. 43 

Those thoughts that wander through eternity, 

To perish rather, swallow'fl up and lost 

In the wide womb of uncreated night, 150 

Devoid of sense and motion ? and who knows, 

Let this be good, whether our angry foe 

Can give it, or wiD ever ? how he can. 

Is doubtful ; that he never will, is sure. 

Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire, 155 

Belike through impotence or unaware. 

To give his enemies their wish, and end 

Them in his anger, whpm his anger saves 

To punish endless ? Vfherefore cease we then. 

Say they who counsel war ? — ^We are decreed, leo 

Reserv'd,' and destin'd to eternal woe ; 

Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, 

What can we suffer worse ? — ^Is this then worst. 

Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms ? 

What, when we fled amain, pursu'd and struck 165 

With heaven's afiSicting thunder, and besought 

The deep to shelter us ? this hell then seem'd 

A refuge from those wounds. Or when we lay 

Chain'd on the burning lake ? that sure was worse. 

What if the breath that kindled those grim fires i70 

Awak'd should blow them into sevenfold rage, 

And plunge us in the flames ? or from above 

Should intermitted vengeance arm again 

His red right hand to plague us P what, if all 

174 His] Consult Bendey, and Newton's Notes on the application 
of the Relatiye. < Red right hand' is the < rabente dextera' of Hor. 
Od. I. ii. 2. 




Her stores were qpen'd, and tlus finnamrai its 

Of hell should spout her cataracts of fire, 

Impendent horrfurs, threatening Udeoos fall 

One day upon our heads ; while we, perhaps 

Designing or exhorting glorious war. 

Caught in a fieiy tempest shall be hurl'd lao 

Each on his rock transfiz'd, the sport and prey 

Of racking whirlwinds; or for ever sank 

Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains ; 

There to converse with everlasting groans, 

Unrespited, unjMtied, unrepriev'd, iss 

Ages of hopeless end ? this would be worse. 

War therefore, open or concealed, alike 

My voice dissuades ; for. what can force or guile 

With him, or who deceive his mind, whose eye 

Views all things at one view? He from heaven's highth 

All these our motions vain, sees and derides ; 

Not more almighty to resist our might, 

Than wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles. 

Shall we then live thus vile, the race of heaven. 

Thus trampled, thus expell'd, to suffer here 19S 

Chains and these torments ? better these than wcnrse 

By my advice ; smce fate inevitable 

Subdues us, and omnipotent decree, 

The victor's will To suffer, as to do. 

Our strength is equal, nor the law unjust aoo 

Thatsooidains: this was at first resolv'd, 

iM Each on hu rock] «Illmn exBpinmtem,' Ac. BewO. MS. 
^ UnrespUed] Consult the notes of Mr. Tbyer, and Mr. Todd on 
thiB line. 


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BOOS It. 46 

If we were wise, against m great a foe 
Contending, auid so doubtful what nught fiadl. 
I laugh, when those, who at the spear are bold 
And yent'rous, if that fail them, shrink and fear 906 
What yet they know must Mlow, to ^ONlnre 
Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain. 
The sentence of their coB<pier(v : this is now 
Our doom ; which if we can sustain and bear. 
Our supreme foe in time may much remit aio 

His anger, and perhaps thus far removM 
Not mind us sot offending, satisfy 'd 
With what is punish'd : whence these raging fires 
Will slacken, if his breath stir not their flames. 
Our purer essence then will oreroome nn 

Their noxious vapor, or enur'd not feel ; 
Or chang'd at length, and to the place conform'd 
In temper and in nature, will receive 
Familiar the fierce heat, and void of pain ; 
This horror will grow mild, tiiis darkness light : fiso 
Besides what hope the never-ending flight 
Of future days may bring, what chance, what change 
Worth waiting, since our present lot appears 
For happy though but ill, for ill not worst. 
If we procure not to ourselves more woe. 2S 

Thus Belial with words cloath'd in reason^s garb 

sv The commentaton have not obeenred that this and the follow- 
iog line rftyme together : 

< Tkn boRor infl grow mOd, lUs dukaotB fight : 
Beades what hope the neyer-ending flight,' Slo. 
«• Ihr htqtpy] Compare Theogms, ver. 509. 

*Hvdi Tig elQuni r^ ifiinf p*6y, ^a oi ehtsZy 
'Jig al fsip^ /dUTf^* &g ;rdU9vGg 8hy ftdl* ah. 


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Coonsel'd ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth, 
* Not peace : and after him thus Mammon spake. 

Either to disinthrone the King of heav'n 
We war, if war be best, or to regain 230 

Our own right lost : him to unthrone we then 
May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yield 
To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife : 
The former, vain to hope,argues as vain 
The latter : for what place can be for us 235 

Within heaven's bound, unless heav'n's Lord supreme 
We overpower ? suppose he should relent 
And publish grace to all, on promise made 
Of new subjection ; with what eyes could we 
Stand in his presence humble, and receive 940 

Strict laws impos'd, to celebrate his throne 
With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing 
Forc'd halleluiahs ; while he lordly sits 
Our envy'd Sovereign, and his altar breathes 
Ambrosial odours and ambrosial flowers, d45 

Our servile offerings ? This must be our task 
In heav'n, this our delight ; how wearisome 
Eternity so spent in worship paid 
To whom we hate ! Let us not then pursue 
By force impossible, by leave obtained 26O 

Unacceptable, though in heaven, our state 
Of splendid vassalage, but rather seek 
Our own good fix)m ourselves, and firom our own 
Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess, 

S54 Live] See Hor. Ep. L zyiiL 107. 

• Ut nM vivam 

Quod superest evL' Ak^fon. 


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BOOK II. 47 

Free, and to none accountable, preferring 856 

Hard liberty before the easy yoke 

Of servile pomp. Our greatness will appear 

Then most conspicuous, when great things of small, 

Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse. 

We can create ; and in what place so e'er 960 

Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain 

Through labour and endurance. This deep world 

Of da^ness do we dread ? how oft amidst 

Thick clouds and dark doth heaven^s all-ruling Sire 

Choose to reside, his glory unobscur'd, ; 966 

And with the majesty of darkness round 

Covers his throne ; from whence deep thunders roar 

Must'ring their rage, and heaven resembles hell ? 

As he our darkness, cannot we his light 

Imitate when we please ? this desart soil 970 

Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold ; 

Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raise 

Magnificence ; and what can heaven show more ? 

Our torments also may in length of time 

Become our elements, these piercing fires 375 

As soft as now severe, our temper chang'd 

Into their temper ; which must needs remove 

The sensible of pain. All things invite 

To peaceful counsels, and the settled state 

Of order, how in safety best we may 280 

Compose our present evils, with regard 

Of what we are and were, dismissing quite 

All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advise. 

996 Eard liberty] See JEachyii Prom. Vinct vet. 974. TodtL 


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He scaroe had ftusfa'd^ when wch munnur fiU'd 
Th' assembly, as when hollow rocks retain ses 

The sound of blustting winds, which all night long 
Had rous'd the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull 
Sea-faring men o'er watch'd, whose bark by chance 
Or pinnace anchors in a craggy bay 
After the tempest : such a^lause was heard 290 
As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleas'd, 
Advising peace : for such another field 
They dreaded worse than hell : so much the fear 
<X thunder and the sword of Michael 
Wrought still within them ; and no less desire 995 
To found this nether empire, which might rise. 
By policy and long process of time, 
In emulation opposite to heaven. 
Which when Beelzebub perceiv'd, than whom, 
Satan except, none higher sat, with grave mo 

Aspect he rose, and in his rising seem'd 
A pillar of state : deep on his front engraven 
Deliberation sat and public care ; 
And princely counsel in his face yet shone, 
Majestic though in ruin : sage he stood, 906 

With Atlantean shoulders fit to bear 
The weight of mightiest monarchies ; his look 

967 cadence luU] See Claudiaoi Rufin. L 70. 
* Ceu muimurat alti 
Impacata quies pelagi, cum flamine fracto 
Durat adhtxc Bflsvitque tumor, dabiumqae per estmn 
Lawa recedentes fluitant vestigia venti.' J^ewUnu 
aa pQlar] Shakesp. Hen. VI. Part ii. act L 

'Bniiro peers «fEiiglaad,/i«Bar«^(^«to(e.' J^ewUn, 


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BOOK U. 49 

Drew audience and attention still as night 

Or summer's noon-tide air, while thus he spake. 

Thrones and imperial Powers, offspring of heay'n, 
Ethereal Virtues ; or these titles now aii 

Must we renounce, and changing style be calPd 
Princes of hell ? for so the popular vote 
Inclines, here to continue, and build up here 
A growing empire ; doubtiess ; while we dream, 8i5 
And know not that the King of heaven hath doomed 
This place our dungeon, not our safe retreat 
Beyond his potent arm, to live ex;empt 
From heaven's high jurisdiction, in new league 
Banded against his throne, but to remain sao 

In strictest bondage, though thus far remov'd, 
Under th' inevitable curb, reserv'd 
His captive multitude : for he, be sore, 
In highth or depth, still first and last will reign 
Sole King, and of his kingdom lose no part 8» 

By our revolt, but over hell extend 
His empire, and with iron sceptre rule 
Us here, as with his golden those in heav'n« 
What sit we then projecting peace and war ? 
War hath determin'd us, and fbil'd with loss 330 

Irreparable ; terms of peace yet none 
VouchsaPd or sought ; for what peace will be giv'n 
To us enslav'd, but custody severe. 
And stripes, and arbitrary punishment 
Inflicted ? and what peace can we return, 336 

But to our power hostility and hate, 

^ papular wU] < \ogae. Voice.' BmU. MS. con. 

VOL. I. 7 


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Untam'd reluctance, and revenge, though slow, 

Yet ever plotting how the conqueror least 

May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice 

In doing what we most in suffering feel ? 340 

Nor will occasion want, nor shall we need 

With dangerous expedition to invade 

Heaven, whose high walls fear no assault, or siege, 

Or ambush from the deep. What if we find 

Some easier enterprize ? There is a place, 845 

(If antient and prophetic fame in heaven 

Err not,) another world, the happy seat 

Of some new race call'd Man, about this time 

To be created like to us, though less 

In power and excellence, but favor'd more 360 

Of him who rules above ; so was his will 

Pronounc'd among the gods, and by an oath, 

That shook heaven's whole circumference, confirm'd. 

Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn 

What creatures there inhabit, of what mould, 356 

Or substance, how endu'd, and what their power. 

And where their weakness, how attempted best, 

By force or subtilty. Though heaven be shut, 

And heaven's high Arbitrator sit secure 

In his own strength, this place may lie expos'd, 360 

The utmost border of his kingdom, left 

To their defence who hold it : here perhaps 

Some advantageous act may be achiev'd 

By sudden onset, either with hell fire 

To waste his whole creation, or possess 355 

^ expa$*d\ Compare ver. 410, and consult Newton's note. 


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All as our own, and drive as we were driven 

The puny habitants ; or if not drive, 

Seduce them to our party, that their God 

May prove their foe, and with repenting hand 

Abolish his own works. This would surpass 370 

Common revenge, and interrupt his joy 

In our confusion, and our joy upraise 

In his disturbance; when his darling sons, 

HurPd headlong to partake with us, shall curse 

Their frail original, and faded bliss, 375 

Faded so soon. Advise if this be worth 

Attempting, or to sit in darkness here 

Hatching vain empires. — ^Thus Beelzebub . 

Pleaded his devilish counsel, first devis'd 

By Satan, and in part propos'd ; for whence, 380 

But from the author of all ill, could spring 

So deep a malice, to confound the race 

Of mankind in one root, and earth with hell 

To mingle and involve, done all to spite 

The great Creator ? but their spite still serves 386 

His glory to augment. The bold design 

Pleas'd highly those infernal states, and joy 

Sparkl'd in all their eyes ; with full assent 

They vote : whereat his speech he thus renews. 390 

Well have ye judg'd, well ended long debate. 
Synod of gods, and, like to what ye are. 
Great things resolv'd ; which from the lowest deep 
Will once more lift us up, in spite of fate. 
Nearer our ancient seat ; perhaps in view [arms 

Of those bright confines, whence with neighbouring 


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And opportune excursion we may chance m 

Re-enter heaven: or else in some mild zone 
Dwell, not unvisited of heav'n's fair light, 
Secure, and at the brightning orient beam 
Purge off this gloom ; the soft delicious air 4W 

To heal the scar of these corrosive fires 
Shall breathe her balm. But first whom shall we send 
In search of this new world ? whom shall we find 
Sufficient? who shall tempt with wand'ring feet 
The dark unbottom'd infinite abyss, 405 

And through the palpable obscure find out 
His uncouth way, or spread his aery flight, 
Upborne with indefatigable wings. 
Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive 
The happy isle ? what strength, what art can then 
Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe 4ii 

Through the strict senteries and staticms thick 
Of angels watching round ? here he had need 
All circumspection, and we now no less 
Choice in our suffrage ; for on whom we send 4i5 
The weight of all, and our last hope, relies. 
This said, he sat ; and expectation held 

4M palpahle] The adjective < obscore' used for a subatantivey aa 
409, * the vast abrupt' Newton. 
*» arrive] Shakesp. Hen. VI. Part iii. act v. 

^s those powers that the queen 

Hath raia'd in GaUia, have arrk^d our cocut' 
^^^ isle] The earth hanging in the sea of air. Cic. de Nat Deor. 

<l|agnam qnandom insuiam^ quam noi orbsn ierrm vooajuni.* 

Digitized by VjOOQIC 

BOOK u. 58 

Hb look su^nse, awaiting who appeared 
To second, or oppose, or undertake 
The perilous attempt : but all sat mute, 4S0 

Pondering the danger with deep thoughts ; and each 
In others count'nance read his own dismay 
Astonish'd ; none among the choice and prime 
Of those heayen-warring champions could be found 
So hardy, as to proffer or accept 425 

Alone the dreadful voyage ; till at last 
Satan, whom now transcendent glory rais'd 
Above his fellows, with monarchal pride. 
Conscious of highest worth, unmovM thus spake. 

O Progeny of heaven, empyreal thrones, 430 

With reason hath deep silence and demur 
Seiz'd us, though undismay'd : long is the way 
And hard, that out of hell leads up to light ; 
Our prison strong ; this huge convex of fire 
Outrageous to devour, immures us round 435 

Ninefold, and gates of burning adamant 
Barr'd over us prohibit all egress. 
These passed, if any pass, the void profound 
Of unessential iiight receives him next 
Wide gaping, and with utter loss of being 440 

Threatens him, plung'd in that abortive gulf. 
If thence he 'scape into whatever world, 
Or unknown region, what remains him less 
Than unknown dangers and as hard escape ? 

^® long] Dante, Inf. c. zxxiy. 95, describes the ascent from heD. 

* La via t lungOj e 1 cammino d malva^o.' 
4» MlntfoU] « Et novies Styx interflisa coercet* BenO. MS. 


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But I should ill become this throne, O peers, 445 
And this imperial sov'reignty, adom'd 
With splendour, arm'd with power, if aught proposed 
And judg'd of public moment, in the shape 
Of difficulty or danger, could deter 
Me from attempting. Wherefore do I assume 450 
These rojralties, and not refuse to reign. 
Refusing to accept as great a share 
Of hazard as of honour, due alike 
*To him who reigns, and so much to him due 
Of hazard more, as he above the rest 455 

High honoured sits ? Go, therefore, mighty powers. 
Terror of heaven, though falPn, intend at home. 
While here shall be our home, what best may ease 
The present misery, and render hell 
More tolerable ; if there be cure or charm 46o 

To respite, or deceive, or slack the pain 
Of this ill mansion. Intermit no watch 
Against a wakeful foe, while I abroad 
Through all the coasts of dark destruction seek 
Deliverance for us all : this enterprize 465 

None shall partake with me. Thus saying rose 
The monarch , and prevented all reply ; 
Prudent, lest from his resolution rais'd 
Others among the chief might offer now, 
(Certain to be refiis'd,) what erst they fear'd ; 470 
And so refus'd might in opinion stand 
His rivals, winning cheap the high repute, 

^^ intend] 'Intende animum.' See Steevens' note on Shakespw 
Timon of Atiiens, act iL scene iL 


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BOOK II. 55 

Which he through hazard huge must earn. But they 

Dreaded not more th' adventure, than his voice 

Forbidding ; and at once with him they rose : 475 

Their rising all at once was as the sound' 

Of thunder heard remote. Towards him they bend 

With awful reverence prone ; and as a god 

Extol him equal to the highest in heaven : 

Nor faiPd they to express how much they prais'd, 480 

That for the general safety he despisM 

His own ; for neither do die spirits damn'd 

Lose all their virtue, lest bad men should boast 

Their specious deeds on earth, which glory excites, 

Or close ambition vamish'd o'er with zeal. 485 

Thus they their doubtful consultations dark 

Ended, rejoicing in their matchless chief: 

As when from mountain tops the dusky clouds 

Ascending, while the north wind sleeps, o'erspread 

Heaven's cheerful face, the low'ring element 490 

Scowls o'er the darken'd landscape snow, or show'r ; 

If chance the radiant sun with farewell sweet 

Extend his ev'ning beam, the fields revive. 

The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds 

Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings. 496 

O shame to men ! devil with devil damn'd 

Firm concord holds; men only disagree 

Of creatures rational, though under hope 

«B ikepa] Horn. D. v. 524. 

Htp^ «Mi}a» fdrog Boqicto, AWoftm. 
M ehtafiiS\ SpeiiB. F. Q. ii. ziL 34. 

< And htaneiC$ ehurfidface enveloped.' !Z%er. 


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Of heavenly grace; and God proclaiming peace, 

Yet live in hatred, enimty, and strife soo 

Among themselves, and levy cruel wars, 

Wasting the earth, each other to destroy : 

As if, (whiph might induce us to accord,) 

Man had not hellish foes enow besides, 

That day and night for his destruction wait S06 

The Stygian council thus dissolved ; and forth 
In order came the grand infernal peers ; 
Midst came their mighty paramount, and seem'd 
Alone th' antagonist of heav'n, nor less 
Than helPs dread emperor, with pomp supreme 510 
And God-like imitated state : him round 
A globe of fiery seraphim inclos'd 
With bright imblazcmry and horrent arms. 
Then of their session ended they bid cry 
With trumpets regal sound the great result : 515 

Toward the four winds four speedy cherubim 
Put to their mouths the sounding alchymy. 
By haralds voice explain'd : the hollow abyss 
Heard far and wide, and all the host of hell 
With deafning shout retum'd them loud acclaim. 590 

Thence, more at ease their minds, and somewhat 
By false presumptuous hope, the ranged powers 
Disband, and wand'ring each his several way 

5» globe] Virg. iEn. x. 373. 

< Qua globuB Ole virdm deBBiflnsnis xxrgeV JWt^Mi. 
^^^ horrent] Virg. iEn. i. 'Honentui Martk anna,' and Mn. x. 
178. ^Hotrentibus hastia.' 


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BOOK II. 57 

Pursues, as inclination or sad choice 

Leads him perplex'd, where he may likeliest find 625 

Truce to his restless thoughts, and entertain 

The irksome hours, till his great chief return. 

Part, on the plain or in the air sublime, 

Upon the wing or in swift race contend, 

As at the Olympian games, or Pjrthian fields : 630 

Part curb their fiery steeds, or shun the goal 

With rapid wheels, or fronted brigads form. 

As when to warn proud cities war appears 

Wag'd in the troubled sky, and armies rush 

To battle in the clouds, before each van 635 

Prick forth the aery knights, and couch their spears 

Till thickest legions close ; with feats of arms 

From either end of heaven the welkin bums. 

Others with vast Typhoean rage more fell 

Elend up both rocks and hills, and ride the air 540 

In whirlwind : hell scarce holds the wild uproar. 

As when Alcides from (Echalia crOwnM 

With conquest felt th' envenomed robe, and tore 

Through pain up by the roots Thessalian pines, 

And Lichas firom the top of (Eta threw 645 

Into th' Euboic sea. Others more mild, 

^^ Paiij an iht plmnl Compaxe Ovid. Metam. iv. 445, and Fasti. 

< Hi temere errabant in opace vaUibus Ids : 

Pars jacet et molli gramine membra levat. 
Hi ludunty boe somnus babet; pars bracbia nectit, 
£t viridem celeri ter pede pulsat bmnum.' 
»i ctr6] <How got tbey steeds and baxps?' v. 348. Benil MS, 
5» rapid\ < rapid even before the race.' BenO. MS. 
VOL. I. 8 


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Retreated in a silent valley, sing 

With notes angelical to many a harp 

Their own heroic deeds and hapless fall 

By doom of battle ; and complain that fate 560 

Free virtue should inthral to force or chance. 

Their song was partial ; but the harmony, 

(What could it less when spirits immortal sing ?) 

Suspended hell, and took with ravishment 

The thronging audience. In discourse more sweet, 

(For eloquence the soul, song charms the sense,) 556 

Others apart sat on a hill retir'd, 

In thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high 

Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, 

Fix'd £aite, free will, foreknowledge absolute ; 5eo 

And found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost. 

Of good and evil much they argued then. 

Of happiness and final misery. 

Passion and apathy, and glory and shame ; 

Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy : 665 

Ifet with a pleasing sorcery could charm 

Pain for a while or anguish, and excite 

^ Men apar(\ Compare Horat Od. li. 13. 23. 

^ Sedesque discrdaa piorum.' 
0BB deoaU] Compare Ovidii Metam. joL 157. 

' Non illos Cithane, non illos carmina yoeum, 
Longave multifoii delectat tibia buxi : 
Sed noctem seimone Izahimt ; virttuque loquendi 
Materia est' 
5n pUaamg sorcery] See Marino's SL of the Imiocents, L 4, 8. 

' And with %pUa9i$ig Ufranny had there 
Shed his Lethean water on their sight' 


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BOOK 11. 59 

Fallacious hope, or arm th' obdured breast 

With stubborn patience as with triple steel. 

Another part in squadrons and gross bands, 670 

On bold adventure to discover wide 

That dismal world, if any clime perhaps. 

Might yield them easier habitation, bend 

Four ways their flying march, along the banks 

Of four infernal rivers, that disgorge 675 

Into the burning lake their baleful streams ; 

Abhorred Stjrx, the flood of deadly hate ; 

Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep ; 

Cocytus, nam'd of lamentation loud 

Heard on the rueful stream ; fierce Phlegeton, 680 

Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage. 

Far off* firom these a slow and silent stream, 

Lethe the river of oblivion, rolls 

Her wat'ry labyrinth, whereof who drinks. 

Forthwith his former state and being forgets, 686 

Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure, and pain. 

Beyond this flood a frozen continent 

Lies, dark and wild, beat with perpetual storms 

Of whirlwind and dire hail ; which on firm land 

Thaws not, but gathers heap, and ruin seems 690 

Of antient pile ; all else deep snow and ice ; 

A gulf profound as that Serbonian bog 

Betwixt Damiata and mount Casius old, 

w fr^] Hor. Od. L iiL 9. 

nii lobor, et aa fnjpler 

Ciica pectus enV Hume. 
8W iKreAaO] Hor. Od.L ILL < dins gnndims.' JVhviMi. 


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Where armies whole have sunk : the parching air 

Burns frore, and cold performs th' ejETect of fire. 605 

Thither by harpy-footed Furies hal'd 

At certain revolutions all the damn'd 

Are brought ; and feel by turns the bitter change 

Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce, 

From beds of raging fire to starve in ice eoo 

Their soft ethereal warmth, and there to pine 

Immovable, infix'd, and frozen round, 

Periods of time ; thence hurried back to fire. 

They ferry over this Lethean sound 

Both to and fro, their sorrow to augment, eo6 

And wish and struggle, as they pass to reach 

The tempting stream, with one small drop to lose 

In sweet forgetfulness all pain and woe, 

All in one moment, and so near the brink : 

But fate withstands, and to oppose th' attempt 6io 

Medusa with Gorgonian terror guards 

The ford, and of itself the water flies 

All taste of living wight, as once it fled 

The lip of Tantalus. Thus roving on 

In confiis'd march forlorn, th' advent'rous bands, 6i5 

With shudd'ring horror pale, and eyes aghast, 

View'd first their lamentable lot, and found 

No rest : through many a dark and dreary vale 

They pass'd, and many a region dolorous. 

O'er many a firozen, many a fiery Alp, g20 

^ Bunu] Yiig. Georg. L 9a ^Bfxtem penetnbfle frigut aduraiJ 
6B0 jg^p^ In |]ie angular number ; eo in Dionymas Peiieg. See 


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BOOK a 61 

Rocksy caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of 

A universe of death, which God by curse 
Created evil, for evil only good, 
Where all life dies, death lives, and nature breeds, 
Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things, 665 
Abominable, inutterable, and M^orse 
Than fables yet have feign'd, or fear conceived, 
Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimaeras dire. 

Meanwhile the adversary of God and man, 
Satan, with thoughts iniSam'd of highest design, eao 
Puts on swift wings, and towards the gates of hell 
Explores his solitary flight ; sometimes 
He scours the right-hand coast, sometimes the left ; 
Now shaves with level. wing the deep, then soars 
Up to the fiery concave towering high. 636 

As when far off at sea a fleet descried 
Hangs in the clouds, by equinoctial winds 
Close sailing from Bengala, or the isles 

Schnieder's note to Orphei Argon, p. 196. "Almog &qx^y singulari 
numero, est in Dion. Perieg. ut in Metrodori Epigr. (AnaL ii. 481.) 
Alpem Javenalis nominat (Sat x. 152.) 

«i RoM] 

* Rocks, shelves, gulfe, quicksands, hundred, hundred horrors.' 

See MddUUm's World tost at TmnU, p. 26. 
«3 evil] .£sch. Eumen. vcr. 71. 

jtax&y d*lxaT« ifdy^yoFT.— ^ 
0BS aU numstrcus] See Heywood's Hierajrchie, p. 497, fib. 7. 
' So that all births which out of order come 
Are monstrous and prodigioua,* 


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Of Ternaie and Tidore, whence merchants bring 
Their spicy drugs : they on the trading flood 6io 
Through the wide ^Ethiopian to the Cape 
Ply, stenuning nightly toward the pole : so seem'd 
Far off the flying fiend. At last appear 
Hell bounds, high reaching to the horrid roof; 
And thrice threefold the gates ; three folds were 
brass, 645 

Three iron, three of adamantine rock. 
Impenetrable, impal'd with circling fire. 
Yet unconsum'd. Before the gates there sat , 
On either side a formidable shape ; 
The one seem'd woman to the waist, and fair, 660 
But ended foul in many a scaly fold. 
Voluminous and vast, a serpent arm'd 
With mortal sting : about her middle round 
A cry of hell-hounds never ceasing bark'd 
With vride Cerberean mouths fiill loud, and rung 665 

^^ Of TanaUl See FaDBhawe's Limiad, p. 219, c. z. 84| 132. 

^Tidore see! Temate! whence are rolled 
(Holding black night a torch) thick plumes of flame.' 
^ tradxng] treading. BenJtL MS. 
M9 mghjay] rightly. BenO. MS. 
MS ihgrict ihretfold] Samson Agon. ver. 1123. 
^ And seven times folded shield.' 
< Clypei septemplicis.' BeatL MS. 
•58 mortal sting] Spens. F. Q. ver. L L 15. 

* pointed with mortal sting.' BenU. MS. 
<M ji cry] * And that some troop of cruel heBish curs 
Encircle them about' 

V. PhUKs qfSeyr<>s. p. 104. (1655). 


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BOOK II. 63 

A hideous peel : yet, when they list, would creep,- 

If aught disturb'd their noise, into her womb. 

And kennel there ; yet there still bark'd and howl'd 

Within unseen. Far less abhorr'd than these 

Yex'd Scylla bathing in the sea that parts 660 

Calabria from the hoarse Trinacrian shore : 

Nor uglier follow the Night-hag, when calPd 

In secret riding through the air she comes, 

Lur'd with the smell of infant blood, to dance 

With Lapland witches, while the labouring moon 666 

Eclipses at their charms. The other shape. 

If shape it might be calPd, that shape had none 

Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb. 

Or substance might be calPd that shadow seem'd, 

For each seem'd either ; black it stood as night, gto 

Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell. 

And shook a dreadful dart ; what seem'd his head. 

The likeness of a kingly crown had on. 

Satan was now at hand, and from his seat 

The monster moving onward came as fast, 67& 

With horrid strides ; hell trembled as he strode. 

«o Fex'd] *Dulichiosvexaase rates.' BentLMS. 
<KB labouring motm] See Ovid. Metam. iv. 333. and Stat Theo. 
▼er. 687. < Siderum labores.' y. Pliiu N. Hist lib. iL c. x. p. 162| ed. 
Brotier. Casimir Sarb. Lyr. iL v. < Soli et Iuiud labores.' 
>^ And ahook] 

' His dart anon out of the corpse he took. 
And in his hand, a dreadibl sight to see, 
With great tiinmph eftsones the same he shook.' 
See SaekmOe^a M. to Mkrwrfor Mag. p. 266, ed. 1610. 
®^ hd[\ * And made hell gates to shiver with the might' 

SaeMUt's hirod. p. 965. 


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Th' undaunted fiend what this might be admir'd ; 
Admir'd, not fear'd ; God and his Son except, 
Created thing naught valued he, nor shunn'd ; 
And with disdainful look thus first began. 680 

Whence and what art thou, execrable shape, 
That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance 
Thy miscreated front athwart my way 
To yonder gates ? through them I mean to pass, 
That be assur'd without leave ask'd of thee. ass 

Retire, or taste thy folly, and learn by proof, 
Hell-born, not to contend with spirits of heav'n. 

To whom the goblin full of wrath replied. 
Art thou that traitor-angel, art thou he. 
Who first broke peace in heaven and faith, till then 
Unbroken, and in proud rebellious arms m 

Drew after him the third part of heaven's sons 
Conjur'd against the Highest ; for which both thou 
And they, outcast from God, are here condemned 
To waste eternal days in woe and pain p 696 

And reckon'st thou thyself with spirits of heav'n, 
Hell-doom'd, and breath'st defiance here and scorn, 
Where I reign king, and, to enrage thee more, 
Thy king and lord ? Back to thy punishment, 

^ Crtated] See Wakefield's LacretitiB, lib; L 117, and SylrtL 
Critica, v. p. 74, where thiB plirase is lUvstiated. 

^ ndscreaied] Spens. F. Q. i iL a < miscreated ftir.* iL m 43. 
'miscreated mould.' BenU, 
^^Dnw] 'He boldly (Irew millions of sonls.* 

See BeaumomPs PsytAe^ c. zv. st 296. 
•w Cot^d] Virf . Geo. i. 380. 

' Et tmfmratos coBlnm rescindere fratres.' jHume. 


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BOOK U. 05 

False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings, too 

Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue 
Thy lingering, or with one stroke of this dart 
Strange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before* 

So spake the grisly Terror, and in shape, 
So speaking and so threat'ning, grew tenfold 706 
More dreadful and deform : on th' other side 
Incens'd with indignation Satan stood 
Unterrify'd, and like a comet bum'd, 
That &es the length of Ophiucus huge 
In th' arctic sky, and from his horrid hair 7io 

Shakes pestilence and war. Each at the head 
Level'd his deadly aim ; their fatal hands 
No second stroke intend, and such a frown 
Each cast at th' other, as when two black clouds. 
With heaven's artillery fraught, come rattling on 7i6 

w come£] See Virg. ^n. x. 272. Tano G. L. L viL 52. JVewtotu 
'^ Ophmeus] See Sir F. Bacon's Astronomy. < And such comeU 

have more than once appeared in our time ; first in Cassiopeia, and 

again in OpJdvehui.* 
710 horrid hair] See Plin. N. Hist lib. iL c. 22. < Cometas horrentes 

erine sanguineo.' See Nonni Dionys. xviL 6. Sylvester's Da Bartas, 

p. 14 

* Then with long bloody hair, a blazing star 

Threatens the world with famine, plague, and war. 
To princes death, to kingdoms many crosses.' 
7n Shakes] Mr. Dyce refers to Lucan. Phars. vL 468. 
' Humentes late nebulas, nimbosque solutis 
Excussere comis.' 

714 uoo hlaek daudi] Boiaido^s (Mando hmamoraiOf b. L c 1& 
St. 10. Thjfer. 

715 artaUry] See Gayton's Charts Scripts, p. 20; (1645). 

'The magazine of heaven here. Artillerie 
Which oft in dreadffal tfaunderings rend the side.' 
VOL. I. 9 


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Over the Caspian ; then stand front to front 

Hovering a space, till winds the signal blow 

To join their dark encounter in mid air : 

So frown the mighty combatants, that hell 

Grew darker at their frown, so match'd they stood ; 

For never but once more was either like 

To meet so great a foe : and now great deeds 

Had been achiev'd, whereof all hell had rung, 

Had not the snaky sorceress that sat 

Fast by hell-gate, and kept the fatal key 725 

Risen, and with hideous outcry rush'd between. 

O father, what intends thy hand, she cry'd, 
Against thy only son ? What fury, O son, 
Possesses thee to bend that mortal dart 
Against thy father's head ? and know'st for whom P 
For him who sits above, and laughs the while 
At thee ordain'd his drudge, to execute 
Whatever his wrath, which he calls justice, bids ; 
His wrath, which one day will destroy ye both. 

She spake, and at her words the hellish pest tss 
Forbore ; then these to her Satan retum'd : 

So strange thy outcry, and thy words so strange 
Thou interposest, that my sudden hand 
Prevented, spares to tell thee yet by deeds 
What it intends ; till first I know of thee, 740 

What thing thou art, thus double-form'd, and why, 
In this infernal vale first met, thou calPst 
Me father, and that fantasm call'st my son : 
I know thee not, nor ever saw till now 
Sight more detestable than him and thee. 746 


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BOOK n. 67 

T' whom thus the portress of hell-gate reply'd. 
Hast thou forgot me then, and do I seem 
Now in thme eye so foul, once deem'd so fair 
In heaven ? when at th' assembly, and m sight 
Of all the seraphim with thee combin'd 750 

In bold conspiracy against heaven's Ejng, 
All on a sudden miserable pain 
Surpriz'd thee, dim thine eyes, and dizzy swum 
In darkness, while thy head iSames thick and fast 
Threw forth, till on the left side opening wide, 756 
Likest to thee in shape and count'nance bright, 
Then shining heav'nly fair, a goddess arm'd, 
Out of thy head I sprung : amazement seiz'd 
All th' host of heaven ; back they recoil'd afraid 
At first, and call'd me Sin, and for a sign 760 

Portentous held me : but familiar grown, 
I pleas'd, and with attractive graces won 
The most averse, thee chiefly, who full oft 
Thyself in me thy perfect image viewing 
Becam'st enamour'd, and such joy thou took'st 7e5 
With me in secret, that my womb conceived 
A growing burthen. Mean while wbi arose, 
And fields were fought in heaven ; wherein remain'd, 
(For what could else ?) to our almighty foe 
Clear victory, to our part loss and rout tto 

Through all the empyrean : down they fell 
Driv'n headlong from the pitch of heaven, down 
Into this deep, and in the general fall 

7« ffiepaiireas] P. Fletcher's LoeusU, ed. 1627, p. 34. 
<The Porter to th' infemall gate m Sin: Todd. 


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I also ; at which, time this powerful key 
Into my hand was given, with charge to keep 775 
These gates for ever shut, which none can pass 
Without my opening. Pensive here I sat 
Alone, but long I sat not, till my womb, 
Pregnant by thee and now excessive grown. 
Prodigious motion felt and rueful throes. tbo 

At last this odious offspring whom thou seest, 
Thine own. begotten, breaking violent way, 
Tore through my entrails, that with fear and pain 
Distorted, all my nether shape thus grew 
Transform'd: but he my inbred enemy tw 

Forth issu'd, brandishing his fatal dart 
Made to destroy : I fled, and cry'd out Death ; 
Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh'd 
From all her caves, and back resounded Death ! 
I fled, but he pursu'd, though more, it seems, 790 
Inflam'd with lust than rage, and swifter far 
Me overtook his mother all dismay'd, 
And, in embraces forcible and foul 
Ingend'ring with me, of that rape begot 
These yelling monsters that with ceaseless cry 7» 
Surround me, as thou saw'st, hourly conceiv'd 
And hourly born, with sorrow infinite 
To me ; for when they list, into the womb 
That bred them they return, and howl, and gnaw 
My bowels, their repast ; then bursting forth aoo 

^ Made to destroy] See James i. 13. BenU. MS, 
^M ro^ hpgvif] See Amadis de Gaul, voL iii. lib. liL c. 10. p. 1S3, 
ed. Southey. 


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BOOK 11. #0 

Afresh with conscious terrors vex me rounds 

That rest or intermissioti none I find. 

Before mine eyes in opposition sits 

Grim Death my son and foe, who sets thetn oti^ 

And me his parent would foil soon devour 805 

For want of other prey, but that he knows 

His end with mine involv'd ; and knows that I 

Should prove a bitter morsel, and his bane, 

Whenever that shall be ; so Fate prononne'd. 

But thou> O father^ I forewarn theCj shuo eio 

His deadly arrow; neither vainly hope 

To be invTilnerable in those bright arms, 

Though tempered heavenly ; for that mortal dint, 

Save be who reigns above, none can resist. 

She finished, and the subtle fiend bis lore 815 

Soon learn'd, now milder, and thus answerM smooth- 
Dear daughter, since thou clalm'st me for thy sire, 
And my fair son here show'st me, the dear pledge 
Of dalliance had with thee in heaven, and jays 
Then sweety now sad to mention, through dire 
change 890 

BefalFn us, unforeseen, un thought of, know 
I come no enemy, but to set free 
From out this dark and dismal house of pain. 
Both him and thee, and all the heavenly host 
Of spirits that, in our just pretences arm'd, aa& 

Fell with us from on high : from them I go 
This uncouth errand sole, and one for all 
Myself expose, vrith lonely steps to tread 
Th' unfounded deep, and through the void infimense 




To search with wandering quest a place foretold aao 

Should be, and, by concurring signs, ere now 

Created, vast and round, a place of bliss 

In the purlieus of heaven, and therein plac'd 

A race of upstart creatures, to supply 

Perhaps our vacant room, though more remov'd, 835 

Lest heaven surcharged with potent multitude 

Might hap to move new broils. Be this, or aught 

Than this more secret, now designed, I haste 

To know, and, this once known, shall soon return. 

And bring ye to the place where thou and Death 840 

Shall dwell at ease, and up and down unseen 

Wing silently the buxom air, imbalm'd 

With odours ; there ye shall be fed and fill'd 

Immeasurably, all things shall be your prey. 

He ceas'd, for both seem'd highly pleas'd, and 
Death 845 

Grinn'd horrible a gastly smile, to hear 
His famine should be fill'd, and blest his maw 
Destin'd to that good hour : no less rejoic'd 
His mother bad, and thus bespake her sire : 

The key of this infernal pit by due 860 

And by command of heaven's all-powerful King, 
I keep, by him forbidden to unlock 
These adamantine gates ; against all force 
Death ready stands to interpose his dart, 

0^ huxom air] Spenser, F. Q. i. zi. 37. 

< And therewith scourge the hixom air so sore.' ^TewUm. 

SM €hriinn?d hornhU] Imitated, Mr. Carey thinks, fVom Dante, 

v. v.; 

* Stawi Minos orribihnente e ringhia.' 



BOOK 11. 71 

Fearless to be o'ennatch'd by living might. 666 

But what owe I to his commands above, 

Who hates me, and hath hither thrust me down 

Into this gloom of Tartarus profound, 

To sit in hateful office, here coniin'd. 

Inhabitant of heaven and heavenly-bom, eeo 

Here, in perpetual agony and pain, 

With terrors and with clamours compass'd round 

Of mine own brood, that on my bowels feed ? 

Thou art my father, thou my author, thou 

My being gav'st me ; whom should I obey 866 

But thee ? whom follow ? thou wilt bring me soon 

To that new world of light and bliss, among 

The Gods who live at ease, where I shall reign 

At thy right hand voluptuous, as beseems 

Thy daughter and thy darling, without end. 87o 

Thus sajdqgy from her side the fatal key, 
Sad instrument of all our woe, she took ; 
And, towards the gate rolling her bestial train, 
Forthwith the huge portcullis high up drew. 
Which but herself not all the Stygian powers 875 
Could once have mov'd ; then in the keyhole turns 
Th' intricate wards, and every bolt and bar 
Of massy iron or solid rock with ease 
Unfastens : on a sudden open fly 
With impetuous recoil and jarring sound 88o 

sn Iwe ai ease] From Homer, Ssol feXa ldk>vt8s. BenUey. 

^^ open Jly] Don Bellianis, pan ii. chap. 19. * Open JUw the 

brazen folding doorSf graHng harsh thunder on their turning hinges.^ 


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Th' infernal doors, and on their hinge's grate 

Harsh thunder, that the lowest bottom shook 

Of Erebus. She open'd, but to shut 

Excell'd her power ; the gates wide open stood, 

That with extended wings a banner'd host 885 

Under spread ensigns marching might pass through 

With horse and chariots rank'd in loose array ; 

So wide they stood, and like a furnace mouth 

Cast forth redounding smoke and ruddy flame. 

Before their eyes in sudden view appear 8oo 

The secrets of the hoary deep, a dark 

Illimitable ocean, without bound. 

Without dimension, where length, breadth,and highth» 

And time and place are lost ; where eldest Night 

And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold 885 

Eternal anarchy amidst the noise 

Of endless wars, and by confusion staled : 

For Hot, Cold, Moist, and Dry, four champions fierce, 

Strive here for mastery, and to battle bring 

Their embryon atoms ; they around the flag . ooo 

Of each his faction, in their several clans, 

Light-arm'd or heavy, sharp, smooth, swift, or slow, 

Swarm populous, unnumber'd as the sands 

Of Barca or Cyrene's torrid soil, 

Levy'd to side with warring vmds, and poise 905 

«» Smoke] See Dante D. Purg. c. xxiv. 

* £ firiammai non ri videro in fomace 

Vetri, o metalli tk lacenti eioaii, 

Com' io vidi un, che dicea ^ 

m JVr M] Ovid. Md. L 19. J^TewUm. 


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^ WJ* 

BOOK n. 78 

Their lighter wings. To whom these most adhere. 

He rules a moment ; Chaos umpire sits, 

And by decision more imbroils the fray 

By which he reigns : next him high arbiter 

Chance governs all. Into this wild abyss, 9io 

The womb of nature and perhaps her grave. 

Of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire. 

But all these in their pregnant causes mix'd 

Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight, 

Unless th' almighty Maker them ordain oi5 

His dark materials to create more worlds : 

Into this wild abyss the wary fiend 

Stood on the brink of hell, and look'd a while, 

Pondering his voyage ; for no narrow frith 

He had to cross. Nor was his ear less peal'd no 

With noises loud and ruinous, (to compare 

Great things with small,) than when Bellona storms, 

With all her battering engines bent to rase 

Some capital city ; or less than if this frame 

Of heaven were falling, and these elements 985 

In mutiny had from her axle torn 

The stedfast earth. At last his sail-broad vans 

He spreads for flight, and in the surging smoke 

Uplifted spurns the ground ; thence many a league 

As in a cloudy chair ascending rides 930 

Audacious ; but, that seat soon failing, meets 

^ $aakroad] See Mazhni Tyrii Diss. toL L |k 914, ^^ Iteiake. 
t«»ydaa* ti^ mt^ag &anB^ Unia. And Lucret vL 74S, * Peniumim 
vela renuttnnt* Or consuh Wakefield's note. See ^filton's Prow 
Works, L 148 : ed. Symmons. 
VOL. I. 10 

Digitized by VjOOQIC 



A vast vacuity : all unawares 
Flutt'ring his pennons vain plumb down he drops 
Ten thousand fathom deep, and to this hour 
Down had been falling, had not by ill chance 935 
The strong rebuff of some tumultuous cloud 
Instinct with fire and nitre hiurried him 
As many miles aloft : that fury stay'd, 
Quench'd in a boggy Sjnrtis, neither sea, 
Nor good dry land : nigh founder'd on he fares, 940 
Treading the crude consistence, half on foot. 
Half flying ; behoves him now both oar and sail. 
As when a gryfon through the wilderness 
With winged course o'er hill or moory dale 
Pursues the Arimaspian, who by stealth 945 

Had from his wakeful custody purloin'd 
The guarded gold : so eagerly the fiend 
O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or 

•» re&H^ Compare Statii Theb. viL 35. 

< Atque ilium Arctoe labentem cardine porta 
Tempestafl etema plags, pivetentaque cobIo 
Agmiaa nimbonmiy primique AqofloniB hiatus 
In diversa ferunt.' 
M8 oar] Beaumont's Psyche, c. zvL st 234. 
< Spreading their wings like oars.' 
Maxino's SL of the Inn. p. 49. 

* With wings like feather'd oars.' 
And Dante, fl. Purg. c. iL 

* Si che remo mm vuol, ne altro velo.' C. ziL 4. 

^ Jhiau u pian] .£schyli Prometheus, ver. 810. See Pomp. Mela; 
lib. iL c 1. Sdini Polyh. xv. 23. Piisciani Perng. ver. 700. Plauti 
Aoluhria, act iv. sc. 8. L p. 142. Plin. N. Hist lib. iv. c. 96. See 
Bulwer's Artif. Changeling, p. 102. 


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BOOK II. 75 

With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way, 

And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies. 

At length a universal hubbub wild 

Of stunning sounds and voices all confiis'd. 

Borne through the hollow dark, assaults his ear 

With loudest vehemence : thither he plies. 

Undaunted to meet there whatever power 966 

Or spirit of the nethermost abyss 

Might in that noise reside, of whom to ask 

Which way the nearest coast of darkness lies, 

Bordering on light; when straight behold the throne 

Of Chaos, and his dark pavilion spread seo 

Wide on the wasteful Deep : with him enthron'd 

Sat sable-vested Night, eldest of things. 

The consort of his reign ; and by them stood 

Orcus and Ades, and the dreaded name 

Of Demogorgon ; Rumor next, and Chance, 966 

And Tumult, and Confusion, all imbroil'd^ 

And Discord with a thousand various mouths. 

T' whom Satan turning boldly, thus. — ^Ye powers, 

And spirits of this nethermost abyss. 

Chaos and antient Night, I come no spy, 970 

With purpose to explore or to disturb 

The secrets of your realm ; but by constraint 

Wand'ring this darksome desart, as my way 

Lies through your spacious empire up to light, 

M9 fnth head] See Sidon. Apollinar. c. IL 171. Antholog. Lat ed. 
BuniL voL 1, p. 403. £p. cciiL for this maimer of speech : 
< Putor, Arator, Eques, pavi, colui, superavi, 
Capras, rus, hoetes, ftonde, ligone, manu.' 


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Alone, and without guide, half lost, I seek d7( 

What readiest path leads where your gloomy bounds 
Confine with heav'n ; or if some other place, 
From your dominion won, th' ethereal King 
Possesses lately, thither to arrive 
I travel this profound ; direct my course ; 960 

Directed, no mean recompence it brings 
To your behoof, if I that region lost. 
All usurpation thence expelPd, reduce 
To her original darkness and your sway, 
(Which is my present journey,) and once more 986 
Erect the standard there of antient Night ; 
Yours be th' advantage all, mine the revenge* 
Thus Satan ; and him thus the Anarch old. 
With fault'ring speech and visage incompos'd, 
Answer'd. I know thee, stranger, who thou art, 990 
That mighty leading angel, who of late 
Made head against heaven's King, though over- 
I saw and heard ; for such a numerous host 
Fled not in silence through the frighted deep, 
With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, 986 

Confusion worse confounded ; and heaven^tes 
Pour'd out by millions her victorious bands 
Pursuing. I upon my frontiers here 
Keep residence ; if all I can will serve 
That little which is left so to defend, looo 

Encroach'd on still thro' your intestine broils 
Weak'ning the sceptre of old Night : first hell. 
Your dungeon, stretching far and wide beneath ; 


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BOOK U. 77 

Now lately heaven and earth, another world, 
Hung o'er my realm, link'd in a golden chain lOOS 
To that side heaven from whence your legions fell : 
If that vray be your walk, you have not far ; 
So much the nearer danger : go and speed ; 
Havock, and spoil, and ruin are my gain. 

He ceas'd ; and Satan stay'd not to reply, loio ^ 
But glad that now. his sea should find a shore. 
With fresh alacrity and force renewed 
Springs upward, like a pyramid of fire, 
Into the wild expanse, and through the shock 
Of fighting elements, on all sides round 1015 

Environ'd, wins his way ; /harder beset 
And more endangered, than when Argo pass'd 
Through Bosporus betwixt the justling rocks : 
Or when Ulysses on the larboard shun'd 
Charybdis, and by th^ other whirlpool steer'd, loao 
So he with difficulty and labour hard 
Mov'd on, with difficulty and labour he ; 
But he once past, soon after when man fell. 
Strange alteration ! Sin and Death amain 
Following his track, such was the will of Heaven, 
Pav'd after him a broad and beaten way loea 

Over the dark abyss, whose boiling gulf 
Tamely endur'd a bridge of wond'rous length, 
From hell continued, reaching th' utmost orb 
Of this frail world ; by which the spirits perverse 

^^ apyrcamd^Jire] Drayton in his Ihvid and €MMik, 1630. 
< He lookt like to a piramid onjire: Todd. 


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With easy intercourse pass to and fro 

To tempt and punish mortals, except whom 

God and good angels guard by special grace. 

But now at last the sacred influence 

Of light appears, and from the walls of heav'n 1036 

Shoots far into the bosom of dim Night 

A glimmering dawn : here Nature first begins 

Her farthest verge, and Chaos to retire 

As from her outmost works, a broken foe. 

With tumult less and with less hostile din, loio 

That Satan with less toil and now with ease 

Wafts on the calmer wave by dubious light, 

And like a weather-beaten vessel holds 

Gladly the port, though shrouds and tackle torn ; 

Or in the emptier waste, resembling air, 1045 

Weighs his spread wings, at leisure to behold 

Far off th' empyreal heaven, extended wide 

In circuit, undetermin'd square or round. 

With opal towers and battlements adornM 

Of living saphir, once his native seat ; loso 

And fast by, hanging in a golden chain 

This pendent world, in bigness as a star 

Of smallest magnitude close by the moon. 

Thither full fraught with mischievous revenge, 

Accurs'd, and in a cursed hour, he hies. 1065 

USB Thi9 pendent worU] Veibatim fiom Shakespeaxe's Mm. fir 
Meat, act liL scene L 
i<^ miiddevaut] 
« Thither Mftai]ght,t0tftibpe^tmtWraoeeM.' BeidLMS. 


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God ntting on his throne sees Satan fijing towards this world, 
then newly created ; shows him to the Son, who sat at his ri^ht hand ; 
foretells the success of Satan in perverting mankind ; clean his own 
justice and wisdom from all imputation, having created Man free, and 
able enough to have withstood his tempter ; yet declares his purpose 
of grace towards him, in regard he fell not of his own malice, as did 
Satan, but by him seduced. The Son of God renders praises to his 
Father for the manifestation of his gracious purpose towards Man ; 
but God again declares, that grace cannot be extended towards Man 
without the satisfaction of divine justice ; Man hath offended the 
majesty of €rod by aspiring to Godhead, and therefore with all his 
progeny devoted to death must die, unless some one can be found 
sufficient to answer for his offbnce, and undergo his punishment^ 
The Son of God freely offers himself a ransom for Man ; the Father 
accepts him, ordains his incarnation, pronounces his exaltation above 
all names in heaven and earth ; commands all the Angels to adore 
hmi ; they obey, and, hymning to their harps in foil choir, celebrate 
the Father and the Son. Mean while Satan alights upon the bare 
convex of this world's outermost orb ; where wandering he first finds 
a place, since called the Limbo of Vanity ; what persons and things 
fiy up thither ; thence comes to the gate of heaven, described as- 
cending by stairs, and the waters above the firmament that flow 
about it : his passage thence to the orb of the sun ; he finds there 
Uriel the regent of that orb ; but first changes himself into the shape 
of a meaner angel ; and pretending a zealous desire to behold the new 
creation, and Man whom God hath placed here, inquires of him the place 
of his habitation, and is directed; alights first on mount Niphates, 


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Hail holy light! offspring of heav'n first-born; 
Or of th' eternal co-eternal beam 
May I express thee unblam'd ? since God is light, 
And never but in unapproached light 
Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, 6 

Bright ejSSuence of bright essence increate. 
Or hear'st thou rather pure ethereal stream. 
Whose fountain who shall tell ? before the sun. 
Before the heavens thou wert, and at the voice 
Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest 10 

The rising world of waters dark and deep. 
Won from the void and formless infinite. 
Thee I revisit now with bolder wing, 
Escap'd the Stygian pool, though long detain'd 
In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight is 

Through utter and through middle darkness borne, 
With other notes, than to th' Orphean lyre, 
I sung of Chaos and eternal Night, 
Taught by the heavenly Muse to venture down 
The dark descent, and up to reascend, 90 

Though hard and rare : thee I revisit safe, 

9 God is Ughi] See Wake£ Lucret 1, p. 320. «Per emphann 
Deus Mepiflsime Sol audit Or. Met xv. 192. 

' Ipse JDei cljrpens, teni com tollitor iin&, 
Mane robet'— 
adeaa notata nobia ad Virg. Georg. i 6.* 
8 fotmUdn] see Lacret 5. 282, * largos item tiquidi ions luminis.' 
^7 oHer notes] See Bembo Sonnetti, p. 26, * con altre voce.' Dante 
n Parad. c xrr. 7, < Con aUra voce omai, con altra vello Rttometo 



^ BOOK iU. 81 

And feel thy sovereign vital lamp ; but thou 

Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain • 

To find thy pieroing ray, and find no dawn ; 

So thick a drop serene hath quench'd their orbs, 89 

Or dim suffusion veil'd. Yet not the more 

Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt 

Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, 

Smit with the love of sacred song ; but chief^ 

Thee Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath, 30 

That wash thy hallowed feet, and warbling flow. 

Nightly I visit ; nor sometimes forget 

Those other two equal'd with me in fate, 

So were I equal'd with them in renown, 

Blind Thamyris and blmd M aeonides, 86 

And Tiresias and Phineus prophets old. 

Then feed on thoughts, that voluntary move 

Harmonious numbers ; as the wakeful bird 

Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert hid 

Tunes her nocturnal note : thus with the year 40 

Seasons return, but not to me returns 

Day, or the sweet approach of even or mom. 

Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose. 

Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine ; 

But cloud instead, and ever-during dark 46 

95 qumeh?d] drenchM. BmU. MS. 

» orbs] VaL Fiaoc nr. 335. « Songnineomiiie rotat oibea.' See 
BwrmanCs Nbte. 

^ JtanDtry hrwJui] flowing, nhrer, crywtal, polling* BtM, MS, 

» Thamyria] Stat Theb. hr. 183. 

* Mutoe ThamyriB damnatns in annoa.' 
VOL. I* 11 


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Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men 

Gut off, and for the book of knowledge fair 

Presented with a universal blank 

Of nature's works to me expung'd and ras'd, 

And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out. 50 

So much the rather thou celestial light 

Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers 

Irradiate; there plant eyes, all mist from thence 

Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell 

Of things invisible to mortal sight. 56 

Now had the Almighty Father from above, 
From the pure empyrean where he sits 
High thron'd above all highth, bent down his eye, 
His own works and their works at once to view. 
About him all the sanctities, of heaven eo 

Stood thick as stars, and from hb sight receiv'd 
Beatitude past utterance ; on his right 
The radiant image of his glory sat, 
His only Son : on earth he first beheld 
Our two first parents, yet the only two 66 

Of mankind, in the happy garden placM, 
Reaping immortal fruits of joy and love. 
Uninterrupted joy, unrival'd love, 
In blissful solitude : he then surveyed 
Hell and the gulf between, and Satan there to 

Coasting the wall of heav'n on this side night 
In the dun air sublime, and ready now 

*• Of] Pearce proposes to read * All natare's works,' and Newton 
agrees with him, putting a stop after * blank,' but I do not understand 
the force of their objection to the established text 


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To stoop with wearied wings, and willing feet 
On the hare outside of this world, that seem'd 
Firm land imbosom'd without firmament, 75 

Uncertain which, in ocean or in air. 
Him God beholding from his prospect high, 
Wherein past, present, future, he beholds^ 
Thus to his only son foreseeing spake. 

Only begotten Son, seest thou what rage so 

Transports our adversary, whom no bounds 
Prescrib'd, no bars of hell, nor all the chains 
Heap'd on him there, nor yet the main abyss 
Wide interrupt, can hold, so bent he seems 
On desperate revenge, that shall redound 85 

Upon his own rebellious head? And now 
Through all restraint broke loose he wings his way 
Not far oflF heaven, in the precincts of light, 
Directly towards the new created world. 
And man there plac'd, with purpose to assay 90 
If him by force he can destroy, or worse. 
By some false guile pervert ; and shall pervert ; 
For man will hearken to his glozing lies. 
And easily transgress the sole command, 
Sole pledge of his obedience : so will fall 95 

He and his faithless progeny. Whose fault ? 
Whose but his own ? Ingrate, he had of me 
All he could have : I made him just and right. 
Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall. 

w gloxing lies] See Beaumont's Psyche, c. v. 37. 

'With humble liea^ and oaths ofgUmnga drest' 
See also B. ix. 549, < so glazed the tempter.* 


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Such I created all th^ ethereal Powers joo 

And Spirits, both them who stood and them who 

Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell. 
Not free, what proof could they have giv'n sincere 
Of tnie allegiance, constant faith, or love, 
Where only, what they needs must do, appearM^ 105 
Not what they would ? what praise could they re- 
ceive ? 
What pleasure I from such obedience paid. 
When will and reason, (reason also is choice,) 
Useless and vain, of freedom both despoil'd, 
Made passive both, had serv'd necessity, no 

Not me ? They therefore, as to right belong'd, 
So were created, nor can justly accuse 
Their Maker, or their making, or their fate ; 
As if predestination over-rul'd 
Their will, dispos'd by absolute decree ii5 

Or high foreknowledge : they themselves decreed 
Their own revolt, not I : if I foreknew, 
Foreknowledge had no influence on their fault. 
Which had no less prov'd certain unforeknown. 
So without least impulse or shadow of fate, iso 

Or aught by me immutably foreseen, 
They trespass, authors to themselves in all. 
Both what they judge and what they choose ; for so 
I form'd them free, and free they must remain. 
Till they enthrall themselves ; I else must change 

loe ( Wlien God gave him reason he gave him freedom to chooee ; 
Jw Ttaton is hut choosing.^ MQtwCs ArwpagUica. 


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BOOK in. 91^ 

Their nature, and revoke the high decree, m 

Unchangeable, eternal, which ordain'd 
Their freedom ; they themselves ordain'd their fall. 
The first sort by their own suggestion fell. 
Self-tempted, self deprav'd : man falls deceiv'd 130 
By the other first : man therefore shall find grace,'- 
The other none : in mercy and justice both, 
Through heaven and earth, so shall my glory excel; 
But mercy first and last shall brightest shine. 

Thus while God spake, ambrosial fragrance fill'd 
All heav'n, and in the blended spirits elect las 

Sense of new joy ineffable diffus'd. 
Beyond compare the Son of God was seen 
Most glorious; in him all his Father shone 
Substantially express'd, and in his face 140 

Divine compassion visibly appeared. 
Love without end, and without measure grace ; 
Which uttering thus he to his Father spake# 

O Father, gracious was that word which clos'd 
Thy sov'reign sentence, that man diould find grace ; 
For which both heaven and earth shall high extol 
Thy praises, with th' innumerable sound 
Of hymns and sacred songs, wherewith thy throne 
Encompassed shall resound thee ever blest. 
For should man finally be lost, should man 150 

Thy creature late so lov'd, thy youngest son, 
Fall circumvented thus by fraud, though jomM 

UB Ikdfur] P. Fleftdhec P. IsL c. xii. at 8L 

'TVoin of faifl father [Chines hkglorioiuifkce.' Todd. 


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With his own folly ? that be from thee far, 

That far be from thee, Father, who art judge 

Of all things made, and judgest only right. 166 

Or shall the adversary thus obtain 

His end, and frustrate thine ? shall he fulfil 

His malice, and thy goodness bring to naught. 

Or proud return though to his heavier doom, 

Yet with revenge accomplish'd, and to hell leo 

Draw after him the whole race of mankind. 

By him corrupted ? or vnlt thou thyself 

Abolish thy creation, and unmake, 

For him, what for thy glory thou hast made ? 

So should thy goodness and thy greatness both 166 

Be questioned and blasphem'd without defence. 

To whom the great Creator thus replied. 
O Son, in whom my soul hath chief delight, 
Son of my bosom. Son who art alone 
My word, my wisdom, and effectual might, 170 

All hast thou spoken as my thoughts are, all 
As my eternal purpose hath decreed : 
Man shall not quite be lost, but sav'd who will. 
Yet not of will in him, but grace in me 
Freely vouchsafed : once more I will renew 175 

His lapsed powers, though forfeit and enthralPd 
By sin to foul exorbitant desires : 

1^ ikaf] Newton observes that this is from Genesis, xviii. 25. 
* That be far from thee,' Slc. 
MB Sbn} <My Son, my only stay, 

My hand, my honor, and my might' 

See Golduig*s Ovid. p. 63. 
1^ lap9ed\ < lapsas acuit mentes,' v. Sil. Ital. x. 606. 


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Upheld by me, yet. once more he shall stand 

On even gromid against his mortal foe, 

By me upheld, that he may know how frail ido 

His falPn condition is, and to me owe 

All his deliverance, and to none but me. 

Some I have chosen of peculiar grace 

Elect above the rest ; so is my will : 

The rest shall hear me call, and oft be warn'd 185 

Their sinful state, and to appease betimes 

Th' incensed Deity, while oflferM grace 

Invites ; for I will clear their senses dark. 

What may suffice, and soften stony hearts 

To pray, repent, and bring obedience due. loo 

To prayer, repentance, and obedience .due. 

Though but endeavoured with sincere intent. 

Mine ear shall not be slow, mine eye not shut. 

And I will place within them as a guide 

My umpire Conscience, whom if they will hear, 195 

Light after light well usM they shall attain. 

And to the end persisting safe arrive. 

This my long sufferance and my day of grace 

They who neglect and scorn shall never taste ; 

But hard be hardened, blind be blinded more, 200 

That they may stumble on, and deeper fall ; 

And none but such from mercy I exclude. 

But yet all b not done ; man disobeying 

Disloyal breaks his fealty, and sins 

Against the high supremacy of heaven, 906 

^ Hom/i] Ezek. xzxyL %. <I will take away the Homf heart out 
of your flesh.' Gt&tM. 


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Affectiiig Godhead, and so losing all, 

To expisfte his treason hath naught left, 

But to destruction sacred and devote, 

He with his whole posterity must die. 

Die he or justice must; unless for him fao 

Some other able, and as willing, pay 

The rigid satisfaction, death for death* 

Say, heavenly Powers, where shall we find such loye ? 

Which of ye will be mortal to redeem 

Man's mortal crime, and just th' unjust to save ? sis 

Dwells in all heaven charity so dear ? 

He ask'd, but all the heav'nly choir stood mute, 
And silence was in heav'n : on man's behalf 
Patron or intercessor none appear'd, 
Much less that durst upon his own head draw fisa 
The deadly forfeiture, and ransom set. 
And now without redemption all mankind 
Must have been lost, adjudg'd to death and hell 
By doom severe, had not the Son of God, 
In whom the fulness dwells of love divine, sas 

His dearest mediation thus renew'd* 

Father, thy word is passed, man shall find grace ; 
And shall grace not find means, that finds her way. 
The speediest of thy winged messengers, 
To visit all thy creatures, and to all 990 

Comes unprevented, unimplor'd, imsought ? 
Happy for man, so coming ; he her aid 
Can never seek, once dead in sins and lost ; 
Atonement for himself or offering meet, 

«* sacred] ' tacrate.' BenU. MS, 


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Indebted and undoqe, hath none to bring. S35 

Behold me then, me for him, life for life, 

I offer; on me let thine anger fall ; 

Account me man ; I for his sake will leave 

Thy bosom, and this glory next to thee 

Freely put off, and for him lastly die ^ JMo 

Well pleas'd ; on me let Death wreak all his rage ; 

Under his gloomy power I shall not long 

Lie yanquish'd ; thou hast giv'n me to possess 

Life in myself for ever; by thee I live, 

Though now to Death I yield, and am his du^ iM5 

All that of me can die ; yet that debt paid, 

Thou wilt not leave me in the loathsome grave 

His prey, nor suffer myimspotted soul- 

For ever with corruption there to dwell : 

But I shall rise victorious, and subdue aeo 

My vanquisher, spoiPd of his vaunted spoil ; 

Death his death's wound shall then receive, and stoop 

Inglorious, of his mortal sting disarmed. 

I through the ample air in triumph high 

Shall lead hell captive maugre hell, and show tss 

The powers of darkness bound. Thou, at the sight 

Pleas'd, out of heaven shalt look down and smile, 

While by thee rais'd I ruin all my foes. 

Death last, and vdth his carcass glut the grave : 

SK me] The frequent repetition of <me' is like Virgil, Msu ix, 4S7. 
* Mdj me, adsmn qni feci in me conrertite ferram.* ,^/hJl^on, 

SS5 maugft heO] 'Such life that maugre Hell he lives.' Sir T. 
HawkinB' Horace, (1638) p. 72. » Mattgre thy ftity,' v. Marino's SI. of 
the Inn. p. 58. ' Maugre thine enemies' hate.' Gayton's Oh. Script. 

p. a 4to. 

VOL. u 12 


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Then with the multitude of my redeem'd 960 

Shall enter heaven long absent, and return, 
Father, to see thy face, wherein no cloud 
Of anger shall remain, but peace assur'd 
And reconcilement : wrath shall be no more 
Thenceforth, but in thy presence joy entire. 265 

His words here ended, but his meek aspect 
Silent yet spake, and breath'd immortal love 
To mortal men, above which only shone 
Filial obedience : as a sacrifice 
Glad to be offer'd, he attends the will fm 

Of his great Father. Admiration seiz'd 
All heaven, what this might mean and whither tend 
Wondering ; but soon th' Almighty thus reply'd : 

O thou in heav'n and earth the only peace 
Foimd out for mankind under wrath, O thou S75 
My sole complacence ! well thou know'st how dear 
To me are all my works, nor man the least. 
Though last created, that for him I spare 
Thee from my bosom and right hand, to save, 
By losing thee a while, the whole race lost. aeo 
Thou therefore whom thou only can'st redeem 
Their nature also to thy nature join ; 
And be thy self man among men on earth, 

^^ Immortal love] See Lucret v. 133. ' Lnmortalia mortali ser- 
mone notantes.' Aristot de Rhetor, u. 17. 2. dOardTOi^ ^V^ ^4 
ifiXotTtay Svijrbg &p. 
^^ kati] Shakespeare's Lear, act L scene 1. 
*Now our J07, 
Although the last, not least' 
and JnL Ces. act iiL scene 1. 

< Though last, not least, in love.' Nliwton. 


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Made flesh, when time shall be, of yirgin seed, 

By wondrous birth : be thou in Adam's room 386 

The head of all mankind, though Adam's son. 

As in him perish all men, so in thee. 

As from a second root, shall be restor'd. 

As many as are restor'd, without thee none. 

His crime makes guilty all his sons ; thy merit soo 

Imputed shall absolve them who renounce 

Their own both righteous and unrighteous deeds, 

And live in thee transplanted, and from thee 

Receive new life. So man, as is most just. 

Shall satisfy for man, be judged and die ; 296 

And dying rise, and rising with him raise 

His brethren, ransom'd with his own dear life. 

So heav'nly love shall outdo hellish hate, 

Giving to death, and dying to redeem. 

So dearly to redeem what hellish hate soo 

So easily destroy'd, and still destroys 

In those who, when they may, accept not grace. 

Nor shalt thou by descending to assume 

Man's nature lessen or degrade thine own. 

Because thou hast, though thron'd in highest bliss 

Equal to God, and equally enjoying 306 

God-like fruition, quitted all to save 

A world from utter loss, and hast been found 

901 destnya] The fall is spoken of as a thing |Mi«i, but as perhaps 
present to the divine mind, so yer. 151 and 181. Pearee, 

9M Equal] Newton says, <this ils an instance of Milton's ortho- 
doxy ;' how could he have overlooked the lines that follow ? 
< By merit more than hirtkright Son of God.' 


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By merit more than birthright Son of God, 
Found worthiest to be so by being good, 3io 

Far more than great or high ; because in thee 
Love hath abounded more than glory aboundis ; 
Therefore thy humiliation shall exalt 
With thee thy manhood also to this throne ; 
Here shalt thou sit incarnate, here shalt reign 3i5 
Both God and Man, Son both of God and Man, 
Anointed universal king ; all power 
I give thee; reign for ever, and assume 
Thy merits ; under thee as head supreme 
Thrones, Princedoms, Powers, Dominions, I reduce : 
All knees to thee shall bow, of them that bide aso 
In heaven, or earth, or under eartli in hell ; 
When thou attended gloriously from heaven 
Shalt in the sky appear, and from thee send 
The summoning archangels to proclaim 385 

Thy dread tribunal : forthwith from all winds 
The living, and forthwith the cited dead 
Of all past ages, to the general doom 
Shall hasten, such a peal shall rouse their sleep. 
Then, all thy saints assembled, thou idiait judge 890 
Bad men and angels ; they arraign'd shall sink 
Beneath thy sentence ; hell, her numbers full. 
Thenceforth shall be for ever shut. Mean while 
The world shall bum, and from her ashes spring 
New heaven and earth, wherein the just shall dwell, 

«^ iardumgds] Archangel; v/TheaaaL iv. 6. St MatLxxiy.31. 
BenU, MS. 'The Archangel Michael is the only Archangel of whom 
we know any thing from holy Writ' Hordey^s SernumSy p. 583, 8vo 


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BOOK m. 98 

And after all their tribulations long 386 

See golden days, froitAil of golden deeds, 
With joy and love triumphing, and fair truth: 
Then thou thj regal sceptre shalt lay by. 
For regal sceptre then no more shall need, d4o 

God shall be all in all. But all ye Gods 
Adore him, who to compass all this dies; 
Adore the Son, and honour him as me. 

No sooner had th' Almighty ceas'd, but all 
The multitude of angels with a shout, 345 

Loud as from numbers without number, sweet 
As from blest voices, uttering joy, heaven rung 
With jubilee, and loud hosannas fill'd 
Th' eternal regions. Lowly reverent 
Towards either throne they bow, and to the ground 360 
With solemn adoration down they cast 
Their crowns inwove with amarant and gold ; 
Immortal amarant, a flower which once 
In Paradise fast by the Tree of Life 
Began to bloom, but soon for man's offence 855 

To heaven remov'd, where first it grew, there grows. 
And flowers aloft shading the fount of life. 
And where the river of bliss through midst of heaven 
Rolls o'er Elysian flowers her amber stream ; 

»7 gMen] Tirf . Eclog. r^. 9. 

* Toto 8UTg;et gens aurea mnndo.' Hume. 

9^ angds] On the construction of tidi ieatenoe, see Pearce's and 
Monboddo's note. 

^^Jlowera] fields, plains, gems. B€uU.MS. 

^ amber] Callim. St Geres, 98, iUmtgiwow 9d$tQ ; and Virg. JBn. 
m.S93. ATeuicn. 


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With these that nerer fade the spirits elect 360 

Bind their resplendent IcM^ks inwreath'd with beams ; 
Now in loose garlands thick thrown off, the bright 
Pavement, that like a sea of jasper shone, 
Impurpled with celestial roses smil'd. 
Then crown'd again their golden harps they took, 
Harps ever tun'd, that glittering by their side 966 
Like quivers hung, and with preamble sweet 
Of charming symphony they introduce 
Their sacred song, and waken raptures high ; 
No voice exempt, no voice but well could join 37o 
Melodious part, such concord is in heaven. 

Thee, Father, first they sung. Omnipotent, 
Immutable, Immortal, Infinite, 
Eternal king ; thee author of all being, 
Fountain of light, thyself invisible 375 

Amidst the glorious brightness where thou sit'st 
Thron'd inaccessible, but when thou shad'st 
The full blaze of thy beams, and through a cloud 
Drawn round about thee like a radiant shrine. 
Dark vrith excessive bright thy skirts appear ; 380 
Yet dazzle heaven, that brightest seraphim 
Approach not, but with both wings veil their eyes. 

"3 h^purpUd] <Tutto di Rose imporpcraio il cielo.' 

Mcarmo M. c. iv. at 291. Thfer. 
^ Dark] 

i Caligine e lasffCk d'ombre lucend 
In cui 8' involve Re ch* il ciel §;ovenia; 
Quivi iddio pose en fulgide tenebre 
E'n profondo silenzio, alte latebre.' 

ToMo Oier. Lib. See Black's L\ft, ii. 489. 


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Thee next they sang of all creation first, 

Begotten Son, Divine Similitude, 

In whose conspicuous countenance, without cloud 

Made visible, the Almighty Father shines, 386 

Whom else no creature can behold : on thee 

Impress'd th' effulgence of his glory abides; 

Transiiis'd on thee his ample Spirit rests. 

He heaven of heavens and all the powers therein 390 

By thee created, and by thee threw down 

Th' aspiring dominations. Thou that day 

Thy father's dreadful thunder didst not spare, 

Nor stop thy flaming chariot wheels, that shook 

Heav'n's everlasting frame, while o'er the necks 395 

Thou drov'st of warring angels disarrayed. 

Back from pursuit thy powers with loud acclaim 

Thee only extoU'd, Son of thy Father's might, 

To execute fierce vengeance on his foes: 

Not so on man ; him thro' their malice fall'n, 4oo 

Father of mercy and grace, thou didst not doom 

So strictly ; but much more to pity incline. 

No sooner did thy dear and only Son 

Perceive thee purpos'd not to doom frail man 

So strictly, but much more to pity inclin'd, 406 

He to appease thy wrath, and end the strife 

Of mercy and justice in thy face discem'd. 

Regardless of the bliss wherein he sat 

»4 shook] V. Fairfax's Tasso, ii. 91. 

* Againe to shake Htav^n^s everUuting frame,* Todd* 
«• JJe] 'Than' or «but' is underetood before «He,* to complete 
the sense. AVi«lon. 


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Second to thee, offered himself to die 
For man's offence. O miexampled love, 4io 

Lore no where to be fomid less than Divine ! 
Hail Son of God,. Saviour of men, thy name 
Shall be the copious matter of my song 
Henceforth, and never shall my harp thy praise 
Forget, nor from thy Father's praise disjoin! 4X5 

Thus they in heaven, above the starry sphere, 
Their happy hours in joy and hynming 8pen,t. 
Mean while upon the firm opacous globe 
Of this round world, whose first convex divides 
The luminous inferior orbs, inclos'd 4S0 

From Chaos and th' inroad of Darkness old, 
Satan alighted walks : a globe far off 
It seem'd, now seems a boundless continent. 
Dark, waste, and wild, imder the frown of night 
Starless expos'd, and ever-threat'ning storms 425 
Of ChacNS blust'ring round, inclement sky; 
Save on that side which from the wall of heaven 
Though distant far some small reflection gains 
Of glimmering air, less vex'd with tempest loud : 
Here walk'd the fiend at large in spacious field. 49D 
As when a vulture on Imaus bred, 
Whose mowy ridge the roving Tartar bounds, 
Dislod^ng from a region scarce of prey 
To gorge the flesh of lambs or yeanling kids 
On hills where flocks are fed, flies toward the springs 
Of Ganges or Hydaspes, Indian streams ; 436 

418 HaS] Yvg. Ma. viii. dOL 

* Salve, vera Jovis proles, decus addite divis.' JVeMion. 



BOOK 111. 97 

But in his way lights on the barren plains 

Of Sericana, where Chineses drive 

With sails and wind their cany waggons light : 

So on this windy sea of land the fiend 440 

Walk'd up and down alone, bent on his prey; 

Alone, for other creature in this place 

Living or lifeless to be found was none; 

None yet, but store hereafter from the earth 

Up hither like aerial vapours flew 445 

Of all things transitory and vain, when sin 

With vanity had fill'd the works of men : 

Both all things vain, and all who in vain things 

Built their fond hopes of glory or lasting fame. 

Or happiness in this or th' other life ; 460 

All who have their reward on earth, the fruits 

Of painful superstition and blind zeal, 

Naught seeking but the praise of men, here find 

Fit retribution, empty as their deeds : 

All th' unaccomplish'd works of nature's hand, 456 

Abortive, monstrous, or unkindly mix'd, 

Dissolv'd on earth, fleet hither, and in vain. 

Till final dissolution, wander here, 

Not in the neighboring moon, as some have dream'd ; 

Those argent fields more likely habitants, 4eo 

Translated saints, or middle spirits hold 

Betwixt th' angelical and human kind : 

Hither of lU-join'd sons and daughters bom 

438 Ckine9e$] See Hudibita, iiL 1. 707. 

<For though Chme9»go to bed.' 
49" moon] He means Ariosto Or. Fur. e. txxiv. at 70. JSTewion. 
VOL. I. 13 


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First from the ancient world those giants came 

With many a vain exploit, though then renown'd : 

The builders next of Babel on the plain 

Of Sennaar, and still with vain design 

New Babels, had they wherewithal, would build : 

Others came single ; he who to be deem'd 

A God, leap'd fondly into ^tna flames, 470 

Empedocles; and he who to enjoy 

Plato's Elysium leap'd into the sea, 

Cleombrotus; and many more too long, 

Embryoes and idiots, eremits and friars. 

White, black, and grey, with all their trumpery, 475 

Here pilgrims roam, that stray'd so far to seek 

In Golgotha him dead, who lives in heaven ,* 

And they who to be sure of paradise 

Dying put on the weeds of Dominic, 

Or in Franciscan think to pass disguis'd ; 480 

They pass the planets seven, and pass the fix'd, 

And that crystalline sphere whose balance weighs 

473 too long] Bentley thinks that a line is here omitted ; and Dr. 
Pearce agrees with him : but it does not appear to me necessary. 
I would read the verse 

' Cleombrotus, and many more (too long :) 
still I think the passage would read better thus transposed : 
* Cleombrotus, and many more, too long. 
Here Pilgrims roam that stray'd so far to seek 

Or in Franciscan think to pass disguis'd : 
Embryos, and idiots, eremites and friars, 
White, black, and grey, with all their trumpery.* 
-fTS fVkUe] Carmelites, Dominicans, and Franciscans. So Ariosto 

Orl. Fur. ziv. 68. < Frati, bianchi, neri, e bigL' Ad. xliiL st 175 



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BOOK m. 99 

The trepidation talk'dy and that first mov'd : 

And now Saint Peter at heav'n's wicket seems 

To wait them with his keys, and now at foot 485 

Of heaven's ascent they lift their feet, when, lo ! 

A violent cross wind from either coast 

Blows them transverse ten thousand leagues awry 

Into the devious air : then might ye see 

Cowls, hoods, and habits with their wearers tost 490 

And fluttered into rags ; then reliques, b^ads, 

Indulgences, dispenses, pardons, bulls. 

The sport of vnnds : all these upwhirPd aloft 

Fly o'er the backside of the world far off, 

Into a limbo large and broad, since calPd 495 

The Paradise of fools, to few unknown 

Long after, now unpeopled, and untrod. 

All this dark globe the fiend found as he pass'd, 

And long he wander 'd, till at last a gleam 

Of dawning light turn'd thitherward in haste eoo 

His travePd steps ; far distant he descries. 

Ascending by degrees magnificent 

Up to the wall of heaven, a structure high, 

At top whereof, but far more rich appeared 

The work as of a kingly palace gate, 595 

With frontispiece of diamond and gold 

Imbellish'd ; thick with sparkling orient gems 

The portal shone, inimitable on earth 

By model or by shading pencil drawn. 

<93 spori] Virg. iBn, vi 75. * Ludibria ventis.' Hume, 
^ orient] Petrarch Trionfo della morte, ii. * Di gemme oriental] 
incoronata.' Todd, 


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The Stairs were such as whereon Jacob saw 5io 

Angels ascending and descending, bands 

Of guardians bright, when he from Esau fled 

To Padan-Aram in the field of Luz, 

Dreaming by night under the open sky, 

And waking cried. This is the gate of heaven. 6i5 

Each stair mysteriously was meant, nor stood 

There always, but drawn up to heaven sometimes 

Viewless; and underneath a bright sea flow'd 

Of jasper, or of liquid pearl, whereon 

Who after came from earth sailing arrived, G20 

Wafted by angels, or flew o'er the lake, 

Rapt in a chariot drawn by fiery steeds* 

The stairs were then let down, whether to dare 

The fiend by easy ascent, or aggravate 

His sad exclusion from the doors of bliss : Gbs 

Direct against which open'd from beneath. 

Just o'er the blissful seat of paradise, 

A passage down to th' earth, a passage wide, 

Wider by far than that of after-times 

Over mount Sion, and, though that were large, 530 

Over the Promis'd Land to God so dear. 

By which, to visit oft those happy tribes, 

On high behests his angels to and fro 

Pass'd frequent, and his eye with choice regard. 

From Paneas, the fount of Jordan's flood, 533 

To Beersaba, where the Holy Land 

Borders on Egypt and the Arabian shore : 

So wide the op'ning seem'd, where bounds were set 


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BOOK in. 101 

To darkness, such as bound the ocean wave, 
Satan from h^nce now on the lower stair, 640 

That scal'd by steps of gold to heaven-gate, 
Looks down with wonder at the sudden view 
Of all this world at once. As when a scout, 
Through dark and desart ways with peril gone 
All night, at last by break of cheerful dawn 645 
Obtains the brow of some high-climbing hill, 
Which to his eye discovers unaware 
The goodly prospect of sqme foreign land 
First-seen, or some renown'd metropolis, 
With glistering spires and pinnacles adorn'd, 660 
Which now the rising sun gilds with his beams : 
Such wonder seiz'd, though after heaven seen. 
The spirit malign ; but much more envy seiz'd 
At sight of all this world beheld so fair. 
Round he surveys, (and well might, where he stood 
So high above the circling canopy 666 

Of night's extended shade,) from eastern point 
Of Libra to the fleecy star that bears 
Andromeda far off Atlantic seas 
Beyond th' horizon : then from pole to pcie 66i 
He views in breadth, and without longer paose 
Down right into the world's first region throws 
His flight precipitant, and winds with ease 

6M eltmHfi^} Drayton's Barons Wanes, c. iL st 14. 

< There riseth up an eaaie elimhing hSV TodijL 
fiM At iighi] Qnod tandem spectaculum fore pntamns, com icUm 
Urram eaniuen licebit ? Cic. Tusc. Disp. L 19. 


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Through the pure marble air his oblique way 
Amongst umumerable stars, that shone 566 

Stars distant, but nigh hand seem'd other worlds ; 
Or other worlds they seem'd, or happy isles, 
Like those Hesperian gardens fam'd of old. 
Fortunate fields, and groves, and flow'ry vales, 
Thrice happy isles ; but who dwelt happy there 57o 
He stay'd not to enquire : above them all 
The golden sun in splendor likest heaven 
AUur'd his eye : thither his course he bends 
Through the calm firmament ; (but up or down, 
By centre or eccentric, hard to tell, 575 

Or longitude,) where the great luminary. 
Aloof the vulgar constellations thick, 
That from his lordly eye keep distance due. 
Dispenses light from far ; they as they move 
Their starry dance in numbers that compute 580 
Days, months, and years, towards his all-cheering 

Turn swift their various motions, or are tum'd 
By his magnetic beam, that gently warms 
The universe, and to each inward part 
With gentle penetration, though unseen, 586 

Shoots invisible virtue even to the deep ; 
So wond'rously was set his station bright 

«4 mmhU air] < Strikes thio' the mcMe skies.' 

See MarvmtpM SLqfthe hmoceatSf p. 75. JVanaL 
^M otUque] Drayton uses this word with the accent on the first 
syUable. Polyllb. Song zvL 

< Then in his 6blique course, the lusty straggling street' 



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BOOK III. * 103 

There lands the fiend, a spot like which perhaps 

Astronomer in the sun's lucent orb 

Through his glaz'd optic tube yet never saw. 590 

The place he found beyond expression bright, 

Compared with aught on earth, metal or stone ; 

Not all parts like, but all alike infc»rm'd 

With radiant light, as glowing iron with fire ; 

If metal, part seem'd gold, part silver clear ; 595 

If stone, carbuncle most or chrysolite. 

Ruby or topaz, to the twelve that shone 

In Aaron's breast-plate, and a stone besides 

Imagined rather oft than elsewhere seen. 

That stone, or like to that which here below eoo 

Philosophers in vain so long Have sought. 

In vain, though by their powerful art they bind 

Volatil Hermes, and call up unbound 

In various shapes old Proteus from the sea, 

Drain'd through a limbec to his native form, 606 

What wonder then if fields and regions here 

Breathe forth elixir pure, and rivers run 

Potable gold, when with one virtuous touch 

Th' arch-chimic sun so far firom us remote 

«8 metaTI In the first editions <medal.V 

2V7 to] Doctor Pearce had an ingenious friend who proposed to 

* Rubie, or Topaz, two o' tli' twelve that shone.' 
How would the Doctor profess to pronounce his line ? 
Fenton reads, * or the twelve that shone.' 
005 {tifi6ec] See Sylvester's Du Bartas, p. 85. 

< Fire that in limbec of pure thoughts divine 
Doth purge our thoughts.' 


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104 ' PARAD[9£ LOST. 

Produces with terrestrial humor mix'd 010 

Here m the dark so many precious things 

Of colour glorious and effect so rare ? 

Here matter new to gaze the devil met 

Undazzled; far and wide his eye commands ; 

For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade, (05 

But all sun-shme ; as when his beams at noon 

Culminate from th' .^uator, as they now 

Shot upward still direct, whence no way round 

Shadow from body opaque can fall ; and the air, 

No where so clear, sharpen'd his visual ray 68O 

To objects distant far, whereby he soon 

Saw vnthin ken a glorious angel stand. 

The same whom John saw also in the sun : 

His back was tum'd, but not his brightness hid ; 

Of beaming sunny rays, a golden tiar 625 

Circl'd his head, nor less his locks behind 

Illustrious on his shoulders fledge with wings 

Lay waving round ; on some great charge employed 

He seem'd, or fix'd in cogitation deep. 

Glad was the spirit impure, as now in hope 680 

To find who might direct his wand'ring flight 

To paradise the happy seat of man, 

His journey's end, and our beginning woe. 

But first he casts to change his proper shape. 

Which else might work him danger or delay : 636 

And now a stripling cherub he appears. 

Not of the prime, yet such as in his face 

^^ ken] See Greene's ^ Never too late." * I might see in my ken.' 



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BOOK lU. 105 

Youth smil'd celestial, and to every limb 
Suitable grace diffused, so well he feign'd ; 
Under a cc»ronet his flowing hair 640 

In curls on either cheek play'd ; wings he wore 
Of many a colour'd plume sprinkled with gold ; 
His habit fit for speed succmct, and held 
Before his decent steps a silver wand. 
He drew not nigh unheard; the angel bright, 6tf 

E'er he drew nigh, his radiant visage tum'd, 
Admonish'd by his ear, and straight was known 
Th' arch-angel Uriel, one of the seven 
Who in God's presence nearest to his throne 
Stand ready at command, and are his eyes fS6% 

That run through all the heavens, or down to th' earth 
Bear his swift errands, over moist and dry. 
O'er sea and land : him Satan thus accosts. 

Uriel, for thou of those seven spirits that stand 
In sight of God's high throne, gloriously bright, 666 
The first art wont his great authentic will 
Interpreter through highest heaven to bring. 
Where all his sons thy embassy attend ; 
And here art likeliest by supreme decree 
Like honour to obtain, and as his eye 6ri0 

To visit oft this new creation round ; 
Unspeakable desire to see, and know 
All these his wondrous works, but chiefly man, 

^^ many a eoUna'd] ' VenicoloribiiB alu.' 

VirgaU CataUctOy vL 9. 
•« guceind] Oil Pur. c. xvil 8t 52. 

< In abUo mcemto era Marfiaa.' Todd, 
VOL. I. 14 




His chief delight and favour, him for whom 

All these his works so wondrous he ordain'd, 666 

Hath brought me from the choirs of cherubim 

Alone thus wand'ring. Brightest seraph, tell 

In which of all these shining orbs hath man 

His fixed seat, or fixed seat hath none. 

But all these shining orbs his choice to dwell ; ero 

That I may find him, and, with secret gaze 

Or open admiration, him behold, 

On whom the great Creator hath bestow'd 

Worlds, and on whom hath all these graces pour'd ; 

That both in him and all things, as is meet, 675 

The universal Maker we may praise ; 

Who justly hath driven out his rebel foes 

To deepest hell, and to repair that loss 

Created this new happy race of men 

To serve him better : wise are all his ways. 680 

So spake the false dissembler unperceiv'd ; 
For neither man nor angel can discern 
Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks 
Invisible, except to God alone. 
By his permissive will, through heaven and earth : 
And oft, though wisdom wake, suspicion sleeps 
At wisdom's gate, and to simplicity 
Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill 
Where no ill seems ; which now for once beguil'd 
Uriel, though regent of the sun, and held 690 

The sharpest sighted spirit of all in heaven : 

078 tkal] Tickell reads, < their loss,' and is followed by Fenton and 
Bentley. Todd. 


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Who to the fraudulent imposter foul 
In his uprightness answer thus retum'd. 

Fair angel, thy desire which tends to know 
The works of God, thereby to glorify 606 

The great Work-toaster, leads to no excess 
That reaches blame, but rather merits praise 
The more it seems excess, that led thee hither 
From thy empyreal mansion thus alone, 
To witness with thine eyes what some perhaps too 
Contented with report hear only in heaven : 
For wonderful indeed are all his works. 
Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be all 
Had in remembrance always with delight : 
But what created mind can comprehend 705 

Their number, or the wisdom infinite 
That brought them forth, but hid their causes deep? 
I saw, when at his word the formless mass. 
This world's material mould, came to a heap : 
Confusion heard his voice, and wild uproar no 

Stood ruled, stood vast infinitude confin'd ; 
Till at his second bidding darkness fled. 
Light shone, and order from disorder sprung. 
Swift to their several quarters hasted then 
The cumbrous elements, earth, flood, air, fire, 7i6 
And this ethereal quintessence of heaven 
Flew upward, spirited with various forms, 
That roU'd orbicular, and turned to stars i, 

^<> heard] * Jussa Dei exsequitur Telluci.' 

A. Rcmuitiy P. Saer, ed. Lauder^ L p. 4. 
716 iku] < the' in Fenton's and Bentlej's ed. JSTewion. 

Digitized by VjOOQIC 


Numberless, as thou seest, and how they moye ; 

Each had his place appomted, each his course ; 720 

The rest in circuit walls this universe. 

Look downward on that globe whose hither side 

With light from hencei though but reflected, shines ; 

That place is earth the seat of man, that light 

His day, which else as th' other hemisphere 736 

Night would invade, but there the neighbouring moon, 

(So call that opposite £adr star,) her aid 

Timely interposes, and her monthly round 

Still ending, still renewing, through mid heav'n, 

With borrowed light her countenance triform 730 

Hence fills and empties to enlighten th' earth, 

And in her pale dominion checks the night* 

That spot to which I point is paradise, 

Adam's abode, those lofty shades his bower : 

Thy way thou canst not miss, me mine requires. 735 

Thus said, he tum'd, and Satan bowing low, 
As to superior spirits is wont in heaven, 
Where honour due and reverence none neglects, 
Took leave, and toward the coast of earth beneath, 
Dovni from th' ecliptic, sped with hop'd success, 740 
Throws his steep flight in many an aery wheel. 
Nor stay'd, till on Niphates' top he lights. 


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Satan now in pi^pect of Eden, and nigh the place where he 
must now attempt the bold enterpnae which he ondertook alone 
against God and man, falls into many doubts with himself, and many 
passions, fear, envy, and despair ; but at length confinns himself in 
evil, journeys on to paradise, whose outward prospect and situation 
is described, oyerleaps the bounds, sits in the shape of a cormorant 
on the Tree of Me, as the highest in the garden to look about him. 
The garden described ; Satan's first sight of Adam and Eve ; his 
wonder at their excellent form and happy state, but with resolution 
' to work their fall : oyerfaears their discourse, thence gathers that the 
Tree of knowledge was forbidden them to eat o^ under penalty of 
death; and thereon intends to found his temptation, by seducing 
them to transgress : then leaves them awhile to know further of their 
state by some other means. Mean while Uriel descending on a 
sunbeam warns Gabriel, who had in charge the gate of paradise, 
that some evil spirit had escaped the deep, and passed at noon by his 
sphere in the shape of a good angel down to paradise, discovered 
afterwards by his furious gestures in the mount Gabriel promises 
to find him ere morning. Night coming on, Adam and Eve discourse 
of going to their rest: their bower described ; their evening worship. 
Gabriel drawing forth his bands of nightwatch to walk the round of 
paradise, appoints two strong Angels to Adam's bower, lest the evil 
spirit should be there doing some harm to Adam or Eve sleeping; 
there they find him at the ear of Eve, tempting her in a dream, and 
bring hinriy thougfa unwiDing, to Gabriel ; by whom questioned, he 
scornfully answen, prepares resistance, but hindered by a sign fmn 
heaven flies out of paradise. 




O FOR that warning voice, which he, who saw 
Th' Apocal3rpse, heard cry in heaven aloud, 
Then when the Dragon, put to second rout, 
Came furious down to be reveng'd on men. 
Woe to the inhabitants on earth ! that now, 5 

While time was, our first parents had been wam'd 
The coming of their secret foe, and scap'd, 
Haply so scap'd his mortal snare ; for now 
Satan, now first inflam'd with rage, came down. 
The tempter ere th' accuser of mankind, lo 

To wreak on innocent frail man his loss 
Of that first battle, and his flight to hell : 
Yet not rejoicing in his speed, though bold 
Far oflF and fearless, nor with cause to boast. 
Begins his dire attempt, which, nigh the birth 15 
Now rolling, boils in his tumultuous breast. 
And like a devilish engine back recoils 
Upon himself; horror and doubt distract 

17 dwUish] *■ Tho6e demlish engines fierie fierce.' 

RusseWs BatOes of Leipsic, 1634, 4to. 
Spenser'B F. Qu. 1. 7. xiiL 

' As when that devUisk iron engine, wrought in deepest hell.' 
17 reeoUa] see Hamlet, act ilL scene iv. 

' For 'tis the sport to have the engineer 
Hoist with his own petar.' 
And Ausonii Epigram, Ixzii. 

' Auctorem ut feriant tela retorta sunm.' 
and Beaumont's Fair Maid of the Inn, act ii 

* Twas he 
Gave heat unto the injury, which returned 
Ldke a petard ill lighted, into the bosom 
Of him gave fire tot' 


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His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir 
The hell within him; for within him hell 90 

He brings, and round about him, nor from hell 
One step no more than from himself can fly 
By change of place : now conscience wakes despair 
That slumber'd, wakes the bitter memory 
Of what he was, what is, and what must be, 25 

Worse ; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue- 
Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his view 
Lay pleasant, his griev'd look he fixes sad ; 
Sometimes towards heav'n and the full-blazing sun, 
Which now sat high in his meridian tower : 90 

Then, much revolving, thus in sighs began. 

O thou that, with surpassing glory crown'd, 
Look'st from thy sole dominion like the God 
Of this new world, at whose sight all the stars 
Hide their diminish'd heads, to thee I call, 35 

But with no friendly voice, and add thy name 

Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams, 
That bring to my remembrance from what state 

1 fell, how glorious once above thy sphere ; 

Till pride and worse ambition threw me down, 40 
Warring in heav'n against heaven's matchless Eang. 
Ah, wherefore ! he deserv'd no such return 
From me, whom he created what I was 
In that bright eminence, and with his good 

M iwrfnm MJ[\ v. Fairfax's Tasso, c. xiL st 77. 
* Swift from myself! run, myself I fear, 
Yet still my hell within myself I bear.' ToM. 
* UAJOtx\ Virg. Culex, ver. 41. 

< Igneus ethereas jam «o2 penetr&rat in arctB* Ricfuardaan, 


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Upbraided none ; nor was his service hard. 46 

What could be less than to afford him praise, 

The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, 

How due ! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, 

And wrought but malice ; lifted up so high 

I'sdein'd subjection, and thought one step higher fio 

Would set me highest, and in a moment quit 

The debt immense of endless gratitude, 

So burthensome, still paying, still to owe ; 

Forgetful what from him I still receiv'd, 

And understood not that a grateful mind 55 

By owing owes not, but still pays, at once 

Indebted and discharged ; what burden then ? 

O had his powerful destiny ordain'd 

Me some inferior angel, I had stood 

Then happy ; no unbounded hope had rais'd go 

Ambition! Yet why not? some other power 

As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean 

Drawn to his part ; but other powers as jgreat 

Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within 

Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. 66 

Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand ? 

Thou hadst : whom hast thou then or what to accuse. 

But heaven's free love dealt equally to all ? 

Be then his love accurs'd, since love or hate, 

so 9dein'd] Drayton's Moses birth, B. 1. 

' Which though it $daind the pleasdnesse to confesse.' 
and Fairfax's Tasso, ver. xz. 128. < He sdeignful eies.' Todd, 
^ sHU paying] < Still paying, ne'er discharged.' 

V. Benhwe's TheopkUa, p. 39. 


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BOOK IV. 118 

To me alike, it deals eternal ^oe : to 

Nay curs'd be thou ; since against his thy will 

Chose freely what it now so justly rues. 

Me miserable ! which way shall I fly 

Infinite wrath, and infinite despair ? 

Which way I fly is hell ; my self am hell ; 75 

And in the lowest deep a lower deep 

Still threatening to devour me opens wide, 

To which the hell I sufier seems a heaven. 

O then at last relent : is there no place 

Left for repentance, none for pardon left ? so 

None left but by submission ; and that word 

Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame 

Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd 

With other promises and other vaunts 

Than to submit, boasting I could subdue 86 

Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know 

How dearly I abide that boast so vain, 

Under what torments inwardly I groan. 

While they adore me on the throne of hell. 

With diadem and sceptre high advanced 90 

The lower still I fall, only supreme 

In misery ; such joy ambition finds. 

But say I could repent, and could obtain 

By act of grace my former state ; how soon 

Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay 

What feign'd submission swore : ease would recant 

Vows made in pain, as violent and void ; ^ 

For never can true reconcilement grow 

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep ; 

VOL. I. 15 


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Which would but lead me to a worse relapse loo 

And heavier fall : so should I purchase dear 

Short intermission bought with double smart. 

This knows my punisher ; therefore as far 

From granting he, as I from begging peace. 

Air hope excluded thus, behold in stead 105 

Of us out-cast, exiPd, his new delight. 

Mankind, created, and for him this world. 

So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear, 

Farewell remorse : all good to me is lost ; 

Evil, be thou my good ; by thee at least no 

Divided empire with heaven's King I hold. 

By thee, and more than half perhaps vrill reign ; 

As man ere long and this new world shall know. 

Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face 
Thrice changed with pale, ire, envy, and despsdr, ii5 
Which marr'd his borrow'd visage, and betray 'd 
Him counterfeit, if any eye beheld : 
For heavenly minds from such distempers foul- 
Are ever clear. Whereof he soon aware 
Each perturbation smoothed with outward calm, 120 
Artificer of fraud ; and was the first 
That practised falsehood under saintly show. 
Deep malice to conceal, couch'd with revenge. 
Yet not enough had practis'd to deceive 
Uriel once wam'd ; whose eye pursu'd him down 125 
The way he went, and on th' Assyrian mount 
Saw him disfigur'd, more than could befall 
Spirit of happy sort : his gestures fierce 
He mark'd and mad demeanour, then alone. 


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BOOK IV. 115 

As he supposed, all unobserv'd, unseen. lao 

So on he faxes, and to the 4)order comes 

Of Eden, where delicious paradise, 

Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green, 

As with a rural mound, the champain head 

Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides 135 

With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild, 

Access deny'd ; and over-head up-grew 

Insuperable highth of .loftiest shade. 

Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, 

A sylvan scene, and, as the ranks ascend 140 

Shade above shade, a woody theatre 

Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops 

The verdurous wall of paradise up sprung; 

Which to our general sire gave prospect large 

Into his nether empire neighbouring round. 145 

And higher than that wall a circling row 

Of goodliest trees loaden with fairest fruit, 

filossoms and fruits at once of golden hue 

AppearM, with gay enamePd colours mixt : 

On which the sun more glad impressed his beams, 160 

Than in fair evening cloud, or humid bow, 

i» shade] 'shaft' BerUL MS. and again, ver. 141. < Shaft above 

1^ iooody theatre] v. Senecn Troades, ver. 1127. 
< Erecta medium vallis iacludens locum, 
Crescit theatri more.' 
Ykg, MxL V. 288. and Solini Polyhut c. zzxviiL v. Lycophr. Csfiflan- 
dra, ver. 600. 

^^ in] Hume, Bentley, and Warton would read *<m fair eveaing 


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When God hath shower'd the earth ; so lovely seemM 
That landscape : and of pure now purer air 
Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires 
Vernal delight and joy, able to drive 155 

All sadness but despair : now gentle gales 
Fanning their odoriferous wings dispense 
Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole 
Those balmy spoils. As when to them who sail 
Beyond the cape of Hope, and now are past leo 

Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow 
Sabean odours from the spicy shore 
Of Arable the blest, with such delay 
Well pleas'd they slack their course, and many aleague 
Cheer'd with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles : 165 
So entertain'd those odorous sweets the fiend 
Who came their bane, though with them better pleas'd 

UB Sabean odours] See Plin. Nat Hist lib. xii. c. 42. 19. < Magnique 
Alexandri classibus Arabiam odore primum nuntiatam in altum.' 
Compare a passage in Ovington's Voyage tx> Surat, p. 55 (1696). * We 
were pleased with the prospect of this island, because we had been 
long strangers to such a sight ; and it gratified us with the fragrant 
smells which were wafted from the shore, from whence, at three 
leagues distance, we scented the odours of flowers and fresh herbs ; 
and what is very observable, when afler a tedious stretch at sea, we 
have deemed ourselves to be near land by our observation and 
course, our smell in dark and misty weather has outdone the acute- 
ness of our sight, and we have discovered land by the fresh smells, 
before we discovered it with our eyes.' See also Davenport's < City 
Night-cap,' act v. 

* The Indian winds 

That blow off from the coast, and cheer the sailor 
With the sweet savour of their spices, want 
The delight that flows in thee.' 


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BOOK IV. in 

Than Asmodeus with the fishy fume. 
That drove him, though enamour'd, from the spouse 
Of Tobit's son, and with a vengeance sent 170 

From Media post to ^Egypt, there fast bound. 
Now to th' ascent of that steep savage hill 
Satan had journied on, pensive and slow; 
But further way found none, so thick entwin'dt 
As one continuM brake, the undergrowth 175 

Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplex'd 
All path of man or beast that past that way. 
One gate there only was, and that lookM east 
On th' other side : which when th' arch-felon saw, 
Due entrance he disdain'd, and in contempt iflo 

At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound 
Of hill or highest wall, and sheer within 
Lights on his feet As when a prowling wolf, 
Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey. 
Watching where shepherds pen their flocks at eve iss 
In hurdled cotes amid the field secure, 
Leaps o'er the fence with ease into the fold : 
Or as a thief bent to unhoard the cash 
Of some rich burgher, whose substantial doors, 
Cross-barr'd and bolted fast, fear no assault, 190 

In at the window climbs, or o'er the tiles : 

us toolf] < Keen bb the Evenmg wolf.* 

BmUnoe^a Tli£opkUat p. 44. 
*» Cfros^barr'd] « Crofls-barr'd and double lockt' 

HeywoofPa Hiarcarchie, p. 510, folio, (1635). 
^^ fnatihe toindow] v. Spenser's Fairy Queen, lib.i. c. 3. ver. 17. 
* He was to weet a stout and sturdy thief^ 

Then he by eunning slights in at the window crept' 


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So clomb this first grand thief into God's fold ; 

So since into his church lewd hirelings climb. 

Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, 

The middle tree and highest there that grew, ids 

Sat like a cormorant ; yet not true life 

Thereby regain'd, but sat devising death 

To them who liv'd ; nor on the virtue thought 

Of that life-giving plant, but only us'd 

For prospect, what well us'd had been the pledge aoo 

Of immortality. So little knows 

Any, but God alone, to value right 

The good before him, but perverts best things 

To worst abuse, or to their meanest use. 

Beneath him with new wonder now he views 206 

To all delight of human sense expos'd 

In narrow room nature's whole wealth, yea more, 

A heaven on earth : for blissful paradise 

Of God the garden was, by him in the east 

Of Eden planted ; Eden stretch'd her line 210 

From Auran eastward to the royal tow'rs 

Of great Seleucia, built by Grecian kings, 

Or where the sons of Eden long before 

Dwelt in Telassar. In this pleasant soil 

His far more pleasant garden God ordain'd ; 215 

Out of the fertile ground he caus'd to grow 

All trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste ; 

And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, 

High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit 

Of vegetable gold; and next to Life 220 

Our death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, 


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BOOK IV. 119 

Ejaowledge of good bought dear by knowing ill. 
Southward through Eden went a river large, 
Nor changM his course, but through the shaggy hill 
Pass'd underneath ingulf 'd ; for God had thrown 
That mountain as his garden mould, high rais'd 226 
Upon the rapid current, which, through veins 
Of porous earth with kindly thirst up drawn^ 
Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rill 
Watered the garden ; thence united fell 230 

Down the steep glade, and met the nether flood, 
Which from his darksome passage now appears ; 
And now divided into four main streams 
Runs divers, wand'ring many a famous realm 
And country, whereof here needs no account ; 235 
But rather to tell how, if art could tell. 
How from that saphire fount the crisped brooks. 
Rolling on orient pearl and sands of gold. 
With mazy error under pendent shades 
Ran nectar, visiting each plant, and fed 240 

Flow'rs worthy of paradise, which not nice art 

Mfy crisped 5rooib] 

* Tremuloqae alarmn remige crispat 
Fluctasqae flaviosqae maris.' 

A, Ramaai Poem, Saer, ed. Laudery i p. 3. 
>98 arieni peaar[\ See Sir D. Lindflay, ed. Chalmers, ii. 327. 
* Lyke orient perils.' 
And Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra, L 5. 'He kissed, the last 
of many doubled kisses, this orient pearl.' 

Ontntpecai was esteemed the most valoable. See Don Quixote 
(Shelton's TransL vol. iv. p. 64.) < She wept not tears, but eeed pearl, 
or morning dew : and he. thought higher, that they were like oriental 


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In beds and curious knots, but nature boon 
Pour'd forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain, 
Both where the morning sun first warmly smote 
The open field, and where the unpierc'd shade 245 
ImbrownM the noontide bowers^ Thus was this 

A happy rural seat of various view : 
Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm, 
Others whose firuit burnish'd with golden rind 
Hung amiable, Hesperian fables true, 250 

If true, here only, and of delicious taste. 
Betwixt them lawns, or level downs, and flocks 
Grazing the tender herb, were interpos'd, 
Or palmy hillock, or the flowery lap 
Of some irriguous valley spread her store, 965 

Flow'rs of all hue, and without thorn the rose. 
Another side, umbrageous grots and caves 
Of cool recess, o'er which the mantling vine 
Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps 
Luxuriant : mean while murmuring waters fall 960 
Down the slope hills, dispers'd, or in a lake. 
That to the fringed bank with myrtle crown'd 

»*4 smoU] VaL Flacc. I. 496. < Percussaque sole scuta.' OrL Fur. 
c. viii. St zx. ' Pereote il sol ardente il vicin colie.' And Psalm (Old 
TransL) cxxi. 6. * The 9un shall not amite thee by day.' Todd, 
^fabUa] Apples. BenU. MS. 

955 irrigwma] Hot. Sat iL 4. 16. * Erriguo nihil est elutius horto. 
** yWwg*erf] See Carew's Poems, p. 204. 
< Sflver floods, 
From your ctojmeUJring'd with flowers.' 
And p. 119. 

' With various trees weyHr^ the waters' brink.' 


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BOOK IV. 121 

Her crystal mirror holds, unite their streams. 
The birds their quire apply ; airs, vernal airs, 
Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune * 865 
The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, 
Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, 
Led on th' eternal spring. Not that fair field 
Of £nna, where Proserpine gathering flowers, 
Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy Dis 270 

Was gathered, which cost Ceres all that pain 
To seek her through the world ; nor that sweet grove 
Of Daphne by Orontes and th' inspired 
Castalian spring might with this paradise 
Of Eden strive ; nor that Nyseian isle 275 

Girt with the river Triton, where old Cham, 
Whom Gentiles Ammon call and Lybian Jove, 
Hid Amalthea and her florid son 
Young Bacchus from his stepdame Rhea's eye ; 
Nor where Abassin kings theur issue guard, 280 

Mount Amara, though this by some suppos'd 
True paradise, under the Ethiop line 

«M c^y] Spens. F. Q. iiL 1. 40. 

Sweet birds thereto eqfpUde 
Their dainty layes,' &c. Bowie. 
^^ Proierpine] With the same accent in F. Queen, L iL 3. < And 
sad Proserpine's wrath.' JVeurton. 

973 Dc^i^] See Wemsdoi£ Poet Minor, vol. tiL p. 1105. v. 
Capitolim vitam M. Antonini Philoe. e. viiL p. 44, ed. Putznan. 

»i Amara] See Bancroft's Epigrams (1639), 4to. p. 35. (200). < Of 
the iEthiopian mountain Amara,^ and StradlingHi Divine Poems 
(1625), p. 27. 

'The ftmous hill Amara to this clime 
Is but a muddie moore of dirt and shma 
TOL. I. 16 


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By Nilus head, enclos'd with shining rock, 

A whole day's journey high, but wide remote 

From Ais Assyrian garden, where the fiend 985 

Saw undelighted all delight, all kind 

Of living creatures new to sight and strange. 

Two of far nobler shape erect and tall. 
Godlike erect, with native honour clad 
In naked majesty, seem'd lords of all, 290 

And worthy seem'd : for in their looks divine 
The image of their glorious Maker shone. 
Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure, 
(Severe, but in true filial freedom plac'd,) 
Whence true authority in men : though both 295 

Not equal, as their sex not equal, seem'd ; 
For contemplation he and valour form'd. 
For softness she and sweet attractive grace ; 
He for God only, she for God in him. 
His fair large front and eye sublime declar'd 300 

Absolute rule ; and hyacinthin locks 
Round from his parted forelock manly hung 
Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad : 

SM He] See St Paul, 1 Corinth. zL 7. < He is the image and glory 
of God ; hut the woman is the glory of the man. For the man is not 
of the woman, hut the woman of the man. Neither was the man 
created for the woman, hut the woman for the man.' This passage 
seems to justify the old reading, < God in him,' and rejects Bendey 
and Peaice's alteration, < Grod and him.' 

301 hfacirUMn] See Dionyaii Geograph. ver. 1112. Theocriti IdylL 
zviiL 2. Longi Pastor, lih. iv. c. 13, and the note in Dyce's ed. of 
Collins, < Like verrud hyacinths of sullen hue,' p. 180. To which add 
Nonni Dionysiaca, xvL ver. 81. 

*A6^aag 9 'YaxlyOav fSov xvardxgoa xoItijP' 


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BOOK IV. 123 

She as a veil down to the slender waist 

Her unadorned golden tresses wore 305 

DisshevePd, but in wanton ringlets wav'd 

As the vine curls her tendrils, which implied 

Subjection, but required with gentle sway, 

And by her. yielded, by him best received ; 

Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, 3io 

And sweet reluctant amorous delay. 

Nor those mysterious parts were then concealed ; 

Then was not guilty shame ; dishonest shame 

Of nature's works, honour dishonourable, 

Sin-bred, how have ye troubled all mankind 3i5 

With shows instead, mere shows of seeming pure, 

And banish'd from man's life his happiest life. 

Simplicity and spotless innocence ! 

So pass'd they naked on, nor shunn'd the sight 

Of God or angel, for they thought no ill : 320 

So hand in hand they pass'd, the loveliest pair 

*** ew a wfl] Carew's Poems, p. 143. 

* Whose Boft hair, 

Fann'd with the breath of gentle air, 
Overspreads her shotdden like a tent, 
And is her veil and ornament* 
Spenser's F. Queen, iv. 113. 

* Which dofl, her golden locks that were unbound 
Still in a knot unto her heeles down traced, 
And like a sUken veU in compasse round 
About her backe, and all her bodie wound' 
^^ Atihe vine] See Merrick's Tr3rphiodorus, ver. 108. 
< His flowing train depends with artfhl twine, 
Like the long tendrils of the curling vine.' 
3U ye] Should we not read < you'? For what is he speaking to 
besides Shame 9 JWtrton. 




That ever since in love's embraces met ; 

Adam the goodliest man of men since born 

His sonSy the fairest of her daughters Eve. 

Under a tuft of shade, that on a green 395 

Stood whisp'ring soft, by a fresh fountain side 

They sat them down ; and after no more toil 

Of their sweet gard'ning labour than sufficM 

To recommend cool Zephyr, and made ease 

More easy, wholesome thirst and appetite 330 

More grateful, to their supper fruits they fell, 

Nectarine fruits, which the compliant boughs 

Yielded them, side-long as they sat recline 

On the soft downy bank damask'd with flowery. 

The savoury pulp they chew, and in the rind, 336 

Still as they thirsted, scoop the brimming stream ; 

Nor gentle purpose nor endearing smiles 

Wanted, nor youthful dalliance, as beseems 

Fair couple, link'd in happy nuptial league, 

333 goodliesi] On this idiom, borrowed fix>m the Ghreek, refer to 
Vigerus de Idiotismis, p. 68, and Thucyd. lib. L o. 50. Navfiaxia 

ftgd lavT^c yayivrita^ v. Herman ad Emipid. Med. ed. Ehnsley, 
p. 07. 

333 eomfliofnt houghs] Compare the Sarootis of Masenios, lib. i. p. 
94, ed. Barbou : 

' Hie menan grenialia opes, et dapsilis arbos 
Fractibas inflezos, ftacundo palmite, ramos 
Cvroai ad obstgrnam^ pnebetque alimenta petentL' 
3M damasied] P. Fletcher. P. Isl. c. xiL 1. 
* Upon the flowrie h<mk» 
Where "Tmoxmftouxn damaake the fragrant seat' Todd. 
337 gtntie] Spens. F. Qu. iii. 8. 14. * He gan make genOe purpose 
to his dame.' Tkyer, 


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Alone as thej. About them frisking played 840 

All beasts of th' earth, since wild, and of all chase 
In wood or wilderness, forest or den ; 
Sporting the lion ramp'd, and in his paw 
Dandled the kid ; bears, tigers, ounces, pards, 
GamboPd before them ; th' unwieldly elephant 845 
To make them mirth us'd all his might, and wreath'd 
His lithe proboscis; close the serpent sly 
Insinuating wove with Gordian twine 
His braided train, and of his fatal guile 
Gave proof unheeded ; others on the grass 360 

Couch'd, and now filPd with pasture gazing sat. 
Or bedward ruminating : for the sun 
Declined was hasting now with prone career 
To th' ocean isles, and in th' ascending scale 
Of heav'n the stars that usher evening rose : 355 

When Satan still in gaze, as first he stood. 
Scarce thus at length failM speech recovered sad. 
O hell ! what do mine eyes with grief behold ! 
Into our room of bliss thus high advanc'd 
Creatures of other mould, earth-bom perhaps, soo 
Not spirits, yet to heavenly spirits bright 
Little inferior ; whom my thoughts pursue 
With wonder, and could love, so lively shines 

3^ O hell] Compare tlie speech of Antitheas, in the Saicotu, at 
the sight of the happiness of Sarcothea, lib. i. p. 9A, 

' Yiderat Antitheus niveam per gramina nympham 
Errantem, et facilis captantem gaudia rniis, 
Pascentemque animom jucunds munere vitn. 
Vidit, et indoluit tantonim herede bonoram,' &c. 


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In them divine resemblance, and such grace 
The hand that form'd them on their shape hath 
pour'd ! 366 

Ah gentle pair, ye little think how nigh 
Your change approaches, when all these delights 
Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, 
More woe, the more your taste is now of joy : 
Happy, but for so happy ill secured 370 

Long to continue ; and this high seat your heaven 
111 fenc'd for heaven to keep out such a foe 
As now is enter'd : yet no purposed foe 
To you, whom I could pity thus forlorn. 
Though I unpitied. League with you I seek, 375 
And mutual amity, so strait, so close. 
That I with you must dwell, or you with me 
Henceforth : my dwelling haply may not please, 
Like this fair paradise, your sense ; yet such 
Accept your Maker's work ; he gave it me, 380 

Which I as freely give : hell shall unfold 
To entertain you two, her widest gates. 
And send forth all her kings : there will be room, 
Not like these narrow limits, to receive 
Your numerous offspring ; if no better place, 385 

Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge 
On you, who wrong me not, for him who wrong'd. 
And should I at your harmless innocence 
Melt, as I do, yet public reason just. 
Honour and empire with revenge enlarged, 390 

By conquering this new world, compels me now 
To do, what else, though damn'd, I should abhor. 


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BOOK IV. 127 

So spake the fiend, and with necessity. 
The tyrant's plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. 
Then from his lofty stand on that high tree 396 

Down he alights among the sportful herd 
Of those fourfooted kinds, himself now one, 
Now other, as their shape serv'd best his end 
Nearer to view his prey, and unespy'd * 

To mark what of their state he more might learn 400 
By word or action mark'd : about them round 
A lion now he stalks with fiery glare. 
Then as a tiger, who by chance hath spy'd 
Id some purlieu two gentle fawns at play. 
Straight couches close, then rising changes oft 405 
His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground, 
Whence rushing he might surest seize them both 
Grip'd in each paw : when Adam first of men, 
To first of women Eve thus moving speech, 
Tum'd him all ear to hear new utterance flow. 4io 

Sole partner and sole part of all these joys. 
Dearer thy self than all, needs must the Power 
That made us, and for us this ample world. 
Be infinitely good, and of his good 
As liberal and free as infinite, 415 

That rais'd us from the dust and plac'd us here 
In all this happiness, who at his hand 
Have nothing merited, nor can perform 
Aught whereof he hath need; he who requires 
From us no other service than to keep 420 

This one, this easy charge, of all the trees 
In paradise that bear delicious fruit 
So various, not to taste that only Tree 


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Of Knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life ; 
So near grows death to life; whatever death is, 4^5 
Some dreadful thing no doubt ; for well thou know'st 
God hath pronounc'd it death to taste that tree, 
The only sign of our obedience left 
Among so many signs of power and rule 
Conferred upon us, and dominion giv'n 430 

Over all other creatures that possess 
Earth, air, and sea. Then let- us not think hard 
One easy prohibition, who enjoy 
Free leave so large to all things else, and choice 
Unlimited of manifold delights : 4V 

But let us ever praise him and extol 
His bounty, following our delightful task 
To prune these growing plants, and tend these jQowers; 
Which were it toilsome, yet with thee were sweet. 
To whom thus Eve reply'd. O thou, for whom 
And from whom I was formed flesh of thy flesh, 44i 
And without whom am to no end, my guide 
And head, what thou hast said is just and right : 
For we to him indeed all praises owe. 
And daily thanks ; I chiefly, who enjoy 445 

So far the happier lot, enjoying thee 
Preeminent by so much odds, while thou 
Like comfort to thyself canst no where find. 
That day I oft remember, when from sleep 
I first awak'd, and found my self reposed 450 

Under a shade on flowers, much wondering where 

*5i on] The second ed. reads * of flowers,' but Tickell, FentOD, 
Bentley, and Newton, read after the first edition. 


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BOOK IV. 129 

And what I was, whence thither brought, and how : 
Not distant far, from thence a murmuring sound 
Of waters- issu'd from a cave, and spread 
Into a liquid plain, then stood unmov'd, ^ 456 

Pure as th' expanse of heaven ; I thither went 
With unexperienc'd thought, and laid me down 
On the green bank, to look into the clear 
Smooth lake, that to me seem'd another sky. 
As I bent down to look, just opposite 4eo 

A shape within the watery gleam appear'd 
Bending to look on me : I started back. 
If started back ; but pleas'd I soon retumM, 
Pleased it retumM as soon with answering looks 
Of sympathy and love : there I had fix'd 465 

Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, 
Had not a voice thus wamM me. What thou seest, 
What there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself; 
With thee it came and goes : but follow me. 
And I will bring thee where no shadow stays 470 
Thy coming, and thy soft embraces ; he 
Whose image thou art, him thou shalt enjoy 
Inseparably thine, to him shalt bear 
Multitudes like thyself, and thence be calPd 
Mother of human race. What could I do, 475 

^9 lake] Compare Ov. Met iii. 457. J^ewtoru 
^1 A shape] Compare the Saicotis of Masenins, lib. iii p. 130, ed. 
Borbou, describing Saicothea : 

* stetit obvia fond 

Virgo, novasque ireto miratur crescere silvas. 
Ipsa etiam propria spectans ab imagine Ibrme 
Luditur, et nivemn veneratiir in ore decorem,' etc. 
VOL. I. 17 


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But follow Straight, invisibly thus led ? 
Till I espy'd th^e, fair indeed and tall. 
Under a platane ; yet, methought, less fair 
Less winning soft, less amiably mild, 
Than that smooth watery image ; back I tum'd, 480 
Thou following cry'dst aloud, rchurn fair Eve, 
Whofii fly'st thou ? whom thou fly 'st, of him thou art, 
His flesh, his bone ; to give thee being I lent 
Out of my side to thee, nearest my heart, 
Substantial life, to have thee by my side 485 

Henceforth an individual solace dear : 
Part of my soul, I seek thee, and thee claim, ■• 
My other half. With that thy gentle hand 
Seiz'd mine ; I yielded, and from that time see 
How beauty is excelPd by manly grace, 490 

And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. 

So spake our general mother, and, with eyes 
Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd 
And meek surrender, half embracing lean'd 
On our first father ; half her swelling breast 496 

Naked met his under the flowing gold 
Of her loose tresses hid : he, in delight 
Both of her beauty and submissive charms, 
Smil'd with superior love, as Jupiter 
On Juno smiles, when he impregns the clouds 500 

478 Under apkctane] See Grotii Adamus ExsoL p. 96. 

< Adamufi, platani Buppositus comiB.' 
Tickell and Fenton read a <plantan.' 

S0O impregns] See Dante n Purgat c. zxiv. 

< L'aura di Maggie muoveai, et olezza 
Tutta impregnata dall' eiba, e da' fiorL' 

Digitized by VjOOQIC 

BOOK IV. 131 

That shed May flowers, and press'd her matron lip 

With kisses pure : aside the devil tum'd 

For envy, yet with jealous leer malign 

Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plainM. 

Sight hateful, sight tormenting ! thus these two 506 
Imparadis'd in one another's arms, 
The happier Eden, shall enjoy their fill 
Of bliss on bliss, while I to hell am thrust, 
Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, 
Among our other torments not the least, 5io 

Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines. 
Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd 
From their own mouths : all is not theirs it seems : 
One fatal tree there stands of Knowledge calPd, ' 
Forbidden them to taste : knowledge forbidden ? 5i5 
Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord 
Envy them that ? can it be sin to know ? 
Can it be death ? and do they only stand 
By ignorance ? is that their happy state, 
The proof of their obedience and their faith ? 520 
O fair foundation laid whereon to build 
Their ruin ! hence I will excite their minds 
With more desire to know, and to reject 
Envious commands, invented with design 
To keep them low, whom knowledge might exalt 525 

^1 matron] meeting. BenU, MS. 

^4 Eifd ^lem askance] See Dante Inferno, c. vL 

* Gli diritti occhi torse allora in biechi.' 
M9 Where] Bentley would read^ * Where V for 'Where ib,' but 
Pearce observes that Milton often leaves out * is,' as B. viiL 631. 


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Equal with gods ; aspiring to be such. 

They taste and die : what likelier can ensue ? 

But first with narrow search I must walk round 

This garden, and no corner leave unspy'd ; 

A chance but chance may lead where I may meet oao 

Some wand'ring spirit of heaven, by fountain side, 

Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw 

What farther would be leam'd. Live while ye may, 

Yet happy pair ; enjoy, till I return, 

Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. 535 

So saying, his proud step he scornful tum'd. 
But with sly circumspection, and began 
Through wood, through waste, o'er hill, o'er dale, 

his roam. 
Mean while in utmost longitude, where heaven 
With earth and ocean meets, the setting sun 640 
Slowly descended, and with right aspect 
Against the eastern gate of paradise 
LevePd his evening rays : it was a rock 
Of alablaster, piPd up to the clouds. 
Conspicuous far, winding with one ascent 645 

Accessible from earth, one entrance high ; 
The rest was craggy cliiF, that overhung 
Still as it rose, impossible to climb. 
Betwixt these rocky pillars Gabriel sat. 

590 A chance] This line, I think, should be thus read : 

A chance — but chance may lead where I may meet 
5^ easiem] 'The sun setting shined on the eastern gate; 'tis 
well it WHS higher than all the rest of Paradise.' BenU, MS, 
5^ aldUaster] Thus spelt in both Milton's own editions. 


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BOOK IV. 133 

Chief ai the angelic guards, awaiting night ; ^50 

About him exercis'd heroic games 

Th' unarmed youth of heaven; but nigh at hand 

Celestial armoury, shields, helms, and spears. 

Hung high with diamond flaming and with gold. 

Thither came Uriel, gliding through the even 566 

On a sunbeam, swift as a shooting star 

In autumn thwarts the night, when vapours fir'd 

Impress the air, and show the mariner 

From what point of his compass to beware 

Impetuous winds : he thus began in haste. 560 

Grabriel, to thee thy course by lot hath given 
Charge and strict watch, that to this happy place 
No evil thing approach or enter in : 
This day at highth of noon came to my sphere 
A spirit, zealous, as he seemM, to know 565 

More of the Almighty's works, and chiefly man 
God's latest image : I described hia way 
Bent all on speed, and mark'd his aery gait: 
But in the mount that lies from Eden north, 

554 toWi diamond] See Prose Works, L 233. (Apol. for Smectym- 
nils.) < Their zeal, whose suhstance Lb ethereal, armmg in complete 
556 Of a shooting] See Dante B Paradiso, c. zv. 16. 

< £ pare Stella, che tromnti loco.' 
551 to ikee] It has been proposed to read these lines with the in- 
sertion of a parentheds : 

' (Gabriel (to thee thy course by lot hath given 
Charge and strict watch, that to this happy place 
No evil thing approach or enter in) 
This day at highth of noon,' &c. 
5W desaib'd] Some read * descry'd.' J^ewUm. 


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Where he &st lighted, soon discem'd his looks 570 
Alien from heaven, with passions foul obscur'd : 
Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade 
Lost sight of him ; one of the banish'd crew, 
I fear, hath ventured from the deep to raise 
New troubles ; him thy care must be to find. 575 

To whom the winged warrior thus returned : 
Uriel, no wonder if thy perfect sight, 
Amid the sun's bright circle where thou sitt'st, 
See far and wide : in at this gate none pass 
The vigilance here plac'd, but such as come 58o 

Well known from heaven; and since meridian hour 
No creature thence. If spirit of other sort, 
So minded, have o'erleap'd these earthy bounds 
On purpose, hard thou know'st it to exclude 
Spiritual substance with corporeal bar. 585 

But if within the circuit of these walks 
In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom 
Thou telPst, by morrow dawning I shall know. 

So promised he, and Uriel to his charge 
Returned on that bright beam, whose point now rais'd 
Bore him slope downward to the sun, now falPn 
Beneath th' Azores ; whether the prime orb, 598 

Incredible how swift, had thither rolPd 
Diurnal, or this less volubil earth. 

^ winged] See Marino's SI. of the Innocents, p. 33. (Transl.) 

< Shining troops of tmnged amdes ride.' 
^^ whdher] * whither.' Milton's own ed. 

SM volvhS] < voldbil,' with the second syllable long, as in the Latin 
^ciidbilis ; when it is short, Milton writes it * voluble.' JSTewton, . 


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BOOK IV. 135 

By shorter flight to th' east, had left hnn there, 595 
Arraying with reflected purple and gold 
The clouds that on his western throne attend. 
Now came still evening on, and twilight gray 
Had in her sober livery all things clad ; 
Silence accompany'd ; for beast and bird, ^ goo 

They to their grassy couch, these to their nests, 
Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale ; 
She all night long her amorous descant sung ; 
Silence was pleas'd : now glow'd the firmament 
With living saphirs ; Hesperus that led eo5 

The starry host rode brightest, till the moon, 
Rising in clouded majesty, at length 
Apparent queen unveil'd her peerless light, 
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw. 

When Adam thus to Eve : fair consort, th' hour eio 
Of night and all thuigs now retir'd to rest 
Mind us of like repose, since God hath set 
Labour and rest, as day and night, to men 
Successive, and the timely dew ^f sleep 
Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines 615 
Our eyelids : other creatures all day long 
Rove idle, unemployed, and less need rest : 
Man hath his daily work of body or mind 
Appointed, which declares his dignity, 

5W lioenf] Pletch. P. IsL vL st 54. 

« The world laU doihed in nighfs Uaek UoeryJ Todd. 

^^ SQmee] See this personification in Beaumont's Psyche, c. vL st 
174. 'Silence for porter stood.' c. xix. st 160. < Whilst Silence 
sate upon his lips.' 

^ aUM] Not aU. Owls. Buhones. BerOl. MS, 


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And the regard of heaven on all his ways; oao 

While other animals unactive range. 
And of their doings God takes no account. 
To-morrow ere fresh morning streak the east 
With first approach of light we must be risen. 
And at our pleasant labour, to reform 625 

Yon flowery arbours, yonder alleys green. 
Our walk at noon, with branches overgrown. 
That mock our scant manuring, and require 
More hands than ours to lop their wanton grov)^ : 
Those blossoms also and those dropping gums, eao 
That lie bestrown unsightly and unsmooth, 
Ask riddance, if we mean to tread, with ease : 
Mean while, as nature wills, night bids us rest. 

To whom thus Eve with perfect beauty adom'd. 
My author and disposer, what thou bidd'st 635 

Unargued I obey, so God ordains ; 
God is thy law, thou mine ; to know no more 
Is woman's happiest knowledge and her praise. 
With thee conversing I forget all time ; 
All seasons and their change, all please alike : 640 
Sweet is the breath of mom, her rising sweet. 
With charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the sun, 
When first on this delightful land he spreads 
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower. 
Glistering with dew ; fragrant the fertile earth 645 
After soft showers ; and sweet the coming on 

«7 wdk] In the first ed. < walks.' J^ewhn. 
098 numuring] This is to be understood as in the French manoeu 
▼re, or working with hands. Richardson. 


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BOOK IT. 137 

Of grateful evening mild ; then silent night 
With this her solemn bird and this fair moon, 
And these the gems of heaven, her starry train : 
But neither breath of mom when she ascends 65o 
With charm of earliest birds, n<Mr rising sun 
On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower, 
Glistering with dew, nor fragrance after showers, 
Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night 
With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon, 656 
Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet. 
But wherefore all night long shine these ? for whom 
This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes ? 

To whom our general ancestor reply'd. 
Daughter of God and man, accomplish'd Eve, 660 
Those have their course to finish, round the earth. 
By morrow evening, and from land to land 
In order, though to nations yet unborn, 
Minist'ring light prepared, they set and rise ; 
Lest total darkness should by night regain 665 

Her old possession, and extinguish life 
In nature and all things, which these soft fires 
Not only enlighten, but with kindly heat 
Of various influence foment and warm, 
Temper or nourish, or in part shed down 670 

Their stellar virtue on all kinds that grow 
On earth, made hereby apter to receive 
Perfection from the sun's more potent ray. 
These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, 674 

^ Those] ^ These** is Tonson's and Newton's alteration. Milton's 
reading is * Those.' 

VOL. I. 1 8 


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Shine not in vain ; nor thi^, though men were none, 
That heaven would want spectators, God want praise : 
Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth 
Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep. 
All these with ceaseless praise his works behold 
Both day and night : how often from the steep 680 
Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard 
Celestial voices to the midnight air. 
Sole, or responsive each to other's note, 
Singing their great Creator ? oft in bands 
While they keep watch, or nightly rounding walk. 
With heavenly touch of instrumental sounds eee 

In full harmonic number joined, their songs 
Divide the night, and lift our thoughts to heaven. 

Thus talking hand in hand alone they passM 
On to their blissful bower ; it was a place 690 

Chosen by the sovereign Planter, when he fram'd 
All things to man's delightful use: the roof 
Of thickest covert was inwoven shade. 
Laurel and myrtle, and what higher grew 
Of firm and fragrant leaf; on either side 695 

Acanthus and each odorous bushy shrub 
Fenc'd up the verdant wall; each beauteous flow'r. 
Iris all hues, roses, and Jessamin [wrought 

Rear'd high their flourished heads between, and 

<^ tDolk ihe earih] The same expression occurs in P. L. viL 477. 
'Creep the ground.' Cicero de Finibus, iL c. 34. 'Maria ambula- 
yisset' See Wakef. Lucret iL v. 206. 
^ DMU] SiL Ital. viL 154. 

( Cum buccina noctem 
DividereL' Richardmm. 


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BOOK IV. 139 

Mosaic; under foot the yiolet, 700 

Crocus^ and hyacinth with rich inlay 
Broider'd the ground, more colourM than with stone 
Of costliest emblem : other creature here, 
Beast, bird, insect, or worm, durst enter none ; 
Such was their awe of man. In shadier bower 705 
More sacred and sequestered, though but feign'd. 
Pan or Sylvanus never slept ; nor Nymph, 
Nor Faunus haunted. Here in close recess 
With flowers, garlands, and sweet-smelling herbs, 
Espoused Eve deck'd first her nuptial bed, 710 

And heav'nly choirs the Hymenaean sung, 
What day the genial angel to our sire 
Brought her in naked beauty more adorn'd, 
More lovely than Pandora, whom the Gods 
Endow'd with all their gifts, and O too like 7i5 

In sad event, when to the unwiser son 
Of Japhet brought by Hermes she ensnared 
Mankind with her fair looks, to be aveng'd 
On him who had stole Jove's authentic fire. 

Thus at their shady lodge arriv'd, both stood Tao 
Both tum'd, and under open sky adored 
The God that made both sky, air, earth, and heaven 
Which they beheld, the moon's resplendent globe, 

^^ embUm] Inlaj. ' Arte pavimenti, atque cmhUmaH vermiculato.' 
''^ shadier] shadie, 2ad ed. 
7i» axdkenHe Jbre] 

< Or him who stole from Jove naHkeeal fire.' BentL MS. 
^ moan] Yirg. JSn. vL 735. •Lucentemqae globmn lone.' 



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And starry pole. Thou also mad'st the night, 

Maker Omnipotent, and thou the day, 785 

Which we in our appointed work employ'd 

Have finished, happy in our mutual help 

And mutual love, the crown of all our bliss 

OrdainM by thee, and this delicious place 

For us too large, where thy abundance wants 790 

Partakers, and uncrop'd falls to the ground. 

But thou hast promised from us two a race 

To fill the earth, who shall with us extol 

Thy goodness infinite, both when we wake, 

And when we seek, as now, thy gift of sleep. 735 

This said unanimous, and other rites 
Observing none, but adoration pure 
Which God likes best, into their inmost bower 
Handed they went ; and, eas'd the putting off 
These troublesome disguises which we wear, 740 
Straight sid^ by side were laid ; nor turned, I ween, 
Adam from his fair spouse ; nor Eve the rites 
Mysterious of connubial love refus'd. 
Whatever hypocrites austerely talk 
Of purity, and place, and innocence, 745 

Defaming as impure what God declares 
Pure, and commands to some, leaves free to all. 
Our Maker bids increase; who bids abstain 
But our destroyer, foe to God and man ? 
Hail wedded love, mysterious law, true source 750 

750 HaU vfedded love] Mr. Dyce compares Middleton : 
< Reverend and honourable matrimony, 
Mother of lawfull sweetes, unshamed morninga, 


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BOOK IV. 141 

Of human offspring, sole propriety 

In paradise of all things common else! 

Bj thee adulterous lust was driv'n from men 

Among the bestial herds to range ; by thee 

Founded in reason, loyal, just, and pure, 755 

Relations dear, and all the charities 

Of father, son, and brother, first were known. 

Far be it, that I should write thee sin or blame, 

Or think thee unbefitting holiest place, 

Perpetual fountain of domestic sweets, 760 

Whose bed is undefiPd and chaste pronounc'd. 

Present, or past, as saints and patriarchs us'd. 

Here hove his golden shafts employs, here lights 

His constant lamp, and waves his purple wings. 

Reigns here and revels ; not in the bought smile 7Q& 

Of harlots, loveless, joyless, unendeared. 

Casual fruition ; nor in court amours, 

M ix'd dance, or wanton mask, or midnight ball. 

Or serenate, which the starved lover sings 

To his proud fair, best quitted with disdain. ttd 

These, luU'd by nightingales, embracing slept, 

And on their naked limbs the flowery roof 

Shower'd roses, which the mom repair'd. Sleep on, 

Dangerlesse pleasures ; thou that mak'st the bed 
Both pleaBant, and legitimately fruitful : without thee, 
All the whole world were soyled bastardy : 
Thou art the onely and the greatest forme, 
That put'st a differeuce betweene our dedres 
And the disordered appetites^f beastes.' 

The PJumnx, 1607. Sig. D 4. 


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Blest pair, and O ! yet happiest if ye seek 

No happier state, and know to know no more. 775 

Now had night measur'd with her shadowy cone 
Half way up hill this vast sublunar vault, 
And from their ivory port the cherubim 
Forth issuing at th' accustom'd hour stood arm'd 
To their night watches in warlike parade, tbo 

When Gabriel to his next in power thus spake. 

Uzziel, half these draw off, and coast the south 
With strictest watch ; these other wheel the north ; 
Our circuit meets full west. As flame they part, 
Half wheeling to the shield, half to the spear. 786 
From these, two strong and subtle spirits he calPd 
That near him stood, and gave them thus in charge. 

Ithuriel and Zephon, with winged speed 
Search through this garden, leave unsearch'd no nook ; 
But chiefly where those two fair creatures lodge, 790 
Now laid perhaps asleep secure of harm. 
This evening from the sun's decline arriv'd. 
Who tells of some infernal spirit seen 
Hitherward bent, (who could have thought ?) escap'd 
The bars of hell, on errand bad no doubt : . 796 

Such where ye find, seize fast, and hither bring. 

So saying, on he led his radiant files. 
Dazzling the moon ; these to the bower direct 
In search of whom they sought : him there they found, 
Squat like a toad, close at the ear of Eve, 800 

778 twry] Ov. Met iv. 185, 

< Lemnius extemplo vtduaa patefecit ebumas.^ JVewfon. 
7B5 skidd] 'Declinaie ad haBtam, vel ad scutum.' Uvy. Hume. 


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BOOK IV. 148 

Assaying by his devilish art to reach 

The organs of her fancy, and with them forge 

Illusions as he list, phantasms, and dreams ; 

Or if, inspiring venom, he might taint 

Th' animal spirits that from pure blood arise bo5 

Like gentle breaths from rivers pure, thence raise 

At least distemper'd, discontented thoughts, 

Vain hopes, vain aims, inordinate desires 

Blown, up with high conceits ingend'ring jvide. 

Him thus intent Ithuriel with his spear 8io 

Touched lightly ; for no falsehood can endure 

Touch of celestial temper, but returns 

Of force to its own likeness : up he starts 

Discovered and surpriz'd. As when a spark 

Lights on a heap of nitrous powder, laid 8X6 

Fit for the tun, some magazine to store 

Against a rumor'd war, the smutty grain 

With sudden blaze diffusM inflames the air : 

So started up in his own shape the fiend. 

Back steppM those two fair angels, half amaz'd 820 

So sudden to behold the grisly king ; 

Yet thus, unmov'd with fear, accost him soon. 

Which of those rebel spirits adjudged to hell 
Com'st thou, escap'd thy prison ? and transformed. 
Why sat'st thou like an enemy in wait, 825 

Here watching at the head of these that sleep ? 

Know ye not then, said Satan fiU'd with scorn. 
Know ye not me ? ye knew me once no mate 

8« <n^ana] v. Mer. W. of Wind.' A. v. S. v. 

' Raiae up the orgaaB of her ftntasy.' Todd, 


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For you, there sitting where ye durst not soar ; 
Not to know me argues your selves unknown, sao 
The lowest of your throng ; or if ye know, 
Why ask ye, and superfluous begin 
Your message, like to end as much in vain ? 

To whom thus Zephon, answering scorn with scorn. 
Think not, revolted spirit, thy shape the same 835 
Or undiminished brightness, to be known 
As when thou stood'st in heaven upright and pure ; 
That glory then, when thou no more wast good. 
Departed from thee, and thou resemblest now 
Thy sin and place of doom, obscure and foul. 840 
But come, for thou, besure, shalt give account 
To him who sent us, whose chaise is to keep \ 
This place inviolable, and these from harm. 

So spake the cherub, and his grave rebuke. 
Severe in youthful beauty, added grace 845 

Invincible : abash'd the devil stood, 
And felt how awful goodness is, and saw 
Virtue in her shape how lovely; saw, and pin'd 
His loss ; but chiefly to find here observed 
His lustre visibly impaired ; yet seem'd 850 

8» sitHng] * Nor shall he hope to sit where Nero soars.* 

See Tragedy of C. T. JSTero, p. 13 (1607). 

^^ Nbt to know] < Nobilem ignorai^ est inter ignobileB censeii' 
V. /. C Scaiigeri VUam^ p. 5. 4to. 

835 same] The commentators think that a difficulty of constraction 
exists in this passage, and Bentley would alter it It seems to me to 
be plain. ' Think not thy brightness undiminished, or thy shape to 
be known the same as,' &c. 

M8 pin'd] Pers. Sat iii. 38. 

< Viriuiem videant, tntabeseantque lelicta.' &me. 


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BOOK IV. 145 

Undaunted. If I must contend, said he, 

Best with the best, the sender not the sent, 

Or all at once ; more glory will be won, 

Or less be lost. Thy fear, said Zephon bold, 

Will save us trial what the least can do 865 

Single against thee wicked, and thence weak. 

The fiend reply'd not, overcome with rage ; 
But like a proud steed rein'd went haughty on, 
Champing his iron curb : to strive or fly 
He held it vain ; awe from above had quelPd sea 
His heart, not else dismayed. Now drew they nigh 
The western point, where those half-rounding guards 
Just met, and closing stood in squadron join'd 
Awaiting next command. To whom their chief 
Gabriel from the front thus call'd aloud. 865 

O friends, I hear the tread of nimble feet 
Hasting this way, and now by glimpse discern 
Ithuriel and Zephon through the shade. 
And with them comes a third of regal port, 
But faded splendor wan ; who by his gait 87o 

And fierce demeanour seems the prince of hell, 
Nor likely to part hence without contest : 
Stand firm, for in his look defiance lours. 

He scarce had ended, when those two approach^, 
And brief related whom they brought, where found, 
How busied, in what form and posture couched. 876 
To whom with stem regard thus Gabriel spake. 

8M Champing] See ^sch. Prom. Vinct 1008. 
dax^v di (n6fJU0v tug veo^vyiig 
IKakogy (fidlfj ual itf^og ^yUvf M^x^* Tk^, 
VOL. I. 19 


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Why hast thou, Satan, broke the bounds prescrib'd 
To thy transgressions, and disturb'd the charge 
Of others, who approve not to transgress sso 

By thy example, but have power and right 
To question thy bold entrance on this place ; 
Employed, it seems, to violate sleep, and those 
Whose dwelling God hath planted here in bliss ? 

To whom thus Satan with contemptuous brow. 865 
Gabriel, thou hadst in heaven th' esteem of wise, 
And such I held thee ; but this question ask'd 
Puts me in doubt. Lives there who loves his pain r' 
Who would not, finding way, break loose from hell. 
Though thither doom'd ? thou wouldst thyself, no 
doubt, 890 

And boldly venture to whatever place 
Farthest from pain, where thou mightst hope to change 
Torment with ease, and soonest recompense 
Dole with delight, which in this place I sought : 
To thee no reason, who know'st only good, 886 

But evil hast not try'd : and vnlt object 
His vdll who bound us ? let him surer bar 
His iron gates, if he intends our stay 
In that dark durance : thus much what was ask'd. 
The rest is true ; they found me where they say ; 900 
But that implies not violence or harm. 

Thus he in scorn. The warlike angel mov'd, 
Disdainfully half smiling, thus reply'd. 
O loss of one in heaven to judge of wise, 

8M Dole] Hamlet A. L S. ii. 

< Weighing ddight with doU: Todd. 


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BOOK IT. 147 

Since Satan fell, whom foUj oTerthrew, ^^(s 

And DOW returns him from his prisoo ''scaped, 

GraTel V in doubt whether to hold them wise 

Or not, who ask w hat boldness brought him hitho' 

Unlicensed from his bounds in hell prescribe : 

So wise he judges it to fly from pain 9io 

However, and to Escape his punishment. 

So judge thou still, presumptuous, till the wrath. 

Which thou incurr^st by fljring, meet thj flight 

Seyenfold, and scourge that wisdom back to hell. 

Which taught thee yet no better, that no pain 9i5 

Can equal anger infinite provok'd. 

But wherefore thou alone ? wherefore with thee 

Came not all hell broke loose ? is pain to them 

Less pain, less to be fled, or thou than they 

Less hardy to endure ? courageous chief, 9SD 

The first in flight firom pain, hadst thou alledg'd 

To thy deserted host this cause of flight. 

Thou surely hadst not come sole fugitive. 

To which the fiend thus answer'd, firowning stem. 
Not that I less endure, or shrink from pain, 996 

Insulting angel; well thou know'st I stood 
Thy fiercest, when in battle to thy aid 
Hie blasting voUied thunder made all speed, 
And seconded thy else not dreaded spear. 
But still thy words at random, as before, 030 

Argue thy inexperience what behooves 
From hard assays and ill successes past 

« 2^1 «Thy,'Beconded. 


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A faithful leader, not to hazard all 

Through ways of danger by himself untry'd. 

I therefore, I alone first undertook 935 

To wing the desolate abyss, and spy 

This new created world, whereof in hell 

Fame is not silent, here in hope to find 

Better abode, and my afflicted powers 

To settle here on earth, or in mid air ; mo 

Though for possession put to try once more 

What thou and thy gay legions dare against ; 

Whose easier business were to serve their Lord 

High up in heaven, with songs to hymn his throne. 

And practis'd distances to cringe, not fight. 945 

To whom the warrior angel soon reply'd. 
To say and straight unsay, pretending first 
Wise to fly pain, professing next the spy, 
Argues no leader, but a liar trac'd, 
Satan, and couldst thou faithful add ? O name, 950 
O sacred name of faithfulness profan'd ! 
Faithful to whom ? to thy rebellious crew ? 
Army of fiends, fit body to fit head: 
Was this your discipline and faith engag'd, 
Your military obedience, to dissolve 955 

Allegiance to th' acknowledged Power supreme ? 
And thou sly hypocrite, who now wouldst seem 
Patron of liberty, who more than thou 
Once fawn'd, and cring'd, and servilely ador'd 
Heaven's awful Monarch ? wherefore but in hope 

»« •Aid] * With' is understood. Pearcc. 


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BOOK IV. 149 

To dispossess him, and thyself to reign ? 96i 

But mark what I arreed thee now, avaunt ; 

Fly thither whence thou fledst : if from this hour 

Within these hallow'd limits thou appear, 

Back to th' infernal pit l drag thee chain'd, 965 

And seal thee so, as henceforth not to scorn 

The facil gates of hell too slightly barr'd. 

So threatened he : but Satan to no threats 
Gave heed, but waxing more in rage reply'd. 

Then when I am thy captive talk of chains, 970 
Proud limitary cherub ; but ere then 
Far heavier load thy self expect to feel 
From my prevailing arm ; though heaven's King 
Ride on thy wings, and thou with thy compeers, 
Us'd to the yoke, draw'st his triumphant wheels fm 
In progress through the road of heaven star^pav'd. 

While thus he spake, th' angelic squadron bright 
Tum'd fiery red, sharpening in mooned horns 
Their phalanx, and began to hem him round 
With ported spears, as thick as when a field 980 

Of Ceres, ripe for harvest, waving bends 
Her bearded grove of ears, which way the wind 
Sways them ; the careful plowman doubting stands, 

MB arreed] See Lisle's Dubaitas, p. 173. 

' Arreed in books of heaven the smnme.' 
■» jjnd seal] See Northmore's note to Tryphiodonis, p. 88. 
^^ star-pav^d] Ashmore's EpigramB, 4to. p. 33. 

* The casements large of Heaven have open set, 
And from their siar-pan^d Jloan have sent me down.' 



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Lest on the threshing floor his hopeful sheaves 
Prove chaff. On th' other side Satan alarm'd, 985 
Collecting all his might, dilated stood, 
Like Teneriff or Atlas unremoved : 
His stature reach'd the sky, and on his crest 
Sat horror plum'd ; nor wanted in his grasp 
What seem'd both spear and shield. Now dreadful 
deeds 990 

Might have ensu'd, nor only paradise 
In this commotion, but the starry cope 
Of heaven perhaps, or all the elements 
At least had gone to wrack, disturb'd and torn 
With violence of this conflict, had not soon 995 

Th' Eternal to prevent such horrid fray 
Hung forth in heav'n his golden scales, yet seen 
Betwixt Astrea and the Scorpion sign, 
Wherein all things created first he weighed. 
The pendulous round earth with balanc'd air looo 
In counterpoise ; now ponders all events. 
Battles, and realms : in these he put two weights. 
The sequel each of parting and of fight ; 
The latter quick up flew and kick'd the beam : 
Which Gabriel spying thus bespake the fiend. 1005 
Satan, I know thy strength, and thou know'st 
Neither our own but giv'n ; what folly then 
To boast what arms can do, since thine no more 

1^ Udnt] 'Thine' and <mine' refer to strength, ver. 1006. not to 
•rms. A'euPtofi. 


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BOOK lY. 151 

Than heaven permits, nor mine, though doubled now 
To trample thee as mire ? for proof look up, loio 
And read thy lot in yon celestial sign, 
Where thou art weigh'd, and shown how light, how 

If thou resist. The fiend look'd up, and knew 
His mounted scale aloft : nor more ; but fled 
Murmuring, and with him fled the shades of night. 


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Morning approached, Eve relates to Adam her trouhleeome 
dream ; he likes it not, yet comforts her : they come forth to their 
day-lahoms : their morning hymn at the door of their hower. Gon, 
to render man inexcusahle, sends Raphael to admonish him of his 
obedience, of his free estate, of his enemy near at hand, who he is, 
and why his enemy, and whatever else may avail Adam to know. 
Raphael comes down to paradise ; his appearance described, his 
coming discerned by Adam aiar ofl^ sitting at the door of his 
bower ; he goes out to meet him, brings him to his lodge, enter- 
tains him with the choicest firoits of paradise got together by 
Eve; their discourse at table: Raphael performs his message, 
minds Adam of his state, and of his enemy ; relates, at Adam's 
request, who that enemy is, and how he came to be so, beginning 
from his first revolt in heaven, and the occasion thereof; how he 
drew his legions after him to the parts of the north, and there incited 
them to rebel with him ; persuading all but only Abdiel a seraph, 
who in argument dissuades and opposes him, then forsakes hipL 

Now momy her rosy steps in th' eastern clime 
Advancing, sowM the earth with orient pearl, 

^ rosy 8teps\ Quintus Smymeus applies the epithet, Qod6aq>v^ 
to Aurora, v. lib. L 137. A, Dyce, ' 

3 80W*d] *Ambo de comis calorem, et ambo radios amservnt,^ 
See AnthoL LaL vol. L p. 8, ed. Burm. Avieni, Orb. Desc. ver. 580. 
and Fragm. in Aiistot Poet 

Snelqav dsoKxiarav gMya, Upton. 


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BOOK V. 168 

When Adam wak'd, so custom'd, for his sleep 

Was ^eiy light, from pure digestion bred, 

And temperate vappuris bland, which th' only sound 

Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan, « 

Lightly dispersed, and the shrill matin song 

Of birds on every bough : so much the more 

His wonder was to find unwaken'd Eve 

With tresses discomposed and glowing cheek, lo 

As through unquiet rest : he, on his side 

Leaning half-rais'd, with looks of cordial love 

Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld 

Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, 

Shot forth peculiar graces : then with voice is 

Mild, as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes. 

Her hand soft touching, whisper'd thus : Awake, 

My fairest, my espoused, my latest found. 

Heaven's last best gift, my ever new delight, 

« <ndy] For « alone.' Speiw. P. Q. v. xL 80. 

' As if the onhf Bound thereof she feai'd.' 
9 fuming] Y. LucretiL lib. vL Virg. Geo. iL 217. 
«/(m] Sylvester's Du Baitas, p. 11& 
* Calls forth the winds. Oh Ueo^ven^B fresh fcms^ quoth he :* 
and p. 161 ; 

* now began 
Aurora's usher with his windy fan 
Gently to shake the woods on every side.' 
7 matin] Yiig. ^n. viiL 456. 

< Et matutini volucmm sub culmine cantusJ' JWtrton. 
17 Awake] See Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, ver. 10013. (Mar- 
ehant's Tale.) 

< Rise up, my vnS, my love, my lady free. 
The turtle's vois is heard, myn owen swete ! 
The winter is gon, with all his raines wete ! 
Come forth now,' &c. 
VOL. I. 20 


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Awake; the mornmg shines, and the fresh jfield ao 
Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how sprihg 
Our tended plants, how blows the citron grove, 
What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed, 
How nature paints her colours, how the bee 
Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet. 95 

Such whispering wak'd her, but with startled eye 
On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake. 

O sole in whom my thoughts find all repose, 
My glory, my perfection, glad I see 
Thy face, and morn returned ; for I this night, 30 
(Such night till this I never pass'd,) have dream'd. 
If dream'd, not, as I oft am wont, of thee. 
Works of day pass'd, or morrow's next design. 
But of offence and trouble, which my mind 
Knew never till this irksome night : methought 36 
Close at mine ear one calPd me forth to walk 
With gentle voice ; I thought it thine : it said. 
Why sleep'st thou Eve ? now is the pleasant time, 
The cool, the silent, save where silence yields 
To the night-warbling bird, that now awake 40 
Tunes sweetest his love-labour'd song ; now reigns 
Full orb'd the moon, and with more pleasing light 
Shadowy sets off the face of things ; in vain, 
If none regard : heaven wakes with all his eyes, 

^ bcHmy reed] sMfiod junXa/iclto. ▼. Dionysii Geog. ver. 937. 

^ his] In the other passages, where the song of the nightingale is 
describedf the bird is of the feminine gender ; v. iii. 40. iv. 602. m 
436. Mwkm. 

^ tpokea] 6. Fletcher's Christ's Victorie, p. 1. st 78. 
' Heaven awakened all his eyes.' TodtL 


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BOOK V. 155 

Whom to behold but thee, nature's desire? 45 

In whose sight all things joy, with ravishment 

Attracted by thy beauty still to gaze* 

I rose as at thy call, but found thee not ; 

To find thee I directed then my walk ; 

And on, methought, alone I pass'd through ways 50 

That brought me on a sudden to the tree 

Of interdicted knowledge : fair it seem'd. 

Much fairer to my fancy thain by day : 

And as I wond'ring look'd, beside it stood 

One shap'd and wing'd like one of those from heaven 

By us oft seen ; his dewy locks distilPd 56 

Ambrosia ; on that tree he also gaz'd ; 

And O fair plant, said he, with fruit surcharg'd, 

Deigns none to ease thy load and taste thy sweet. 

Nor God, nor man ; is knowledge so despised ? ea 

Or envy, or what reserve forbids to taste ? 

Forbid who will, none shall from me withhold 

Longer thy ofFer'd good ; why else set here ? 

This said, he paus'd not, but with vent'rous arm 

He pluck'd, he tasted ; me damp horror chilPd 65 

At such bold words vouch'd with a deed so bold. 

But he thus overjoy'd : O fruit divine, 

Sweet of thyself, but much more sweet thus cropped, 

Forbidden here, it seems, as only fit 

For gods, yet able to make gods of men : ro 

^ Ambrana] Virg. Mil i. 403. 

' AmbroBueque conuB divinum vertice odorem 
Spiraveie.' Hume. 


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And why not gods of men, since good, the more 

Communicated, more abmidant grows, 

The author not impaired, but honoured more ? 

Here, happy creature, fair angelic Eve, 

Partake thou also ; happy though thou art, 75 

Happier thou may'st be, worthier canst not be : 

Taste this, and be henceforth among the gods 

Thyself a goddess, not to earth confin'd. 

But sometimes in the air, as we, sometimes 

Ascend to heaven, by merit thine, and see m 

What life the gods live there, and such live thou. 

So saying, he drew nigh, and to me held, 

Even to my mouth of that same fruit held part 

Which he had pluckM ; the pleasant savoury smell 

So quicken'd appetite, that I, methought, s& 

Could not but taste. Forthwith up to the clouds 

With him I flew, and underneath beheld 

The earth outstretched immense, a prospect wide 

And various : wond'ring at my flight and change 

To this high exaltation, suddenly 90 

My guide was gone, and I, methought, sunk down, 

And fell asleep : but O how glad I wak'd 

To find this but a dream ! Thus Eve her night 

Related, and thus Adam answer'd sad. 

71 good] * Ista natnra est boni, 

Communicari gaudet, et multis suo 
Prodesse fhictu. Nemo participi carens 
Vivit beatuB.' Groiii Adamua ExsuL p. 2a 

« mghf] for the « dreams of night" v. S. Ital. iii. 216. 

* Promissa evolvit somni, noctemque retractat' Hume. 


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BOOK Y. m 

Best image of myself and dearer half, 95 

The trouble of th j thoughts this night in sleep 
Affects me equally ; nor can I like 
This uncouth dream, of evil sprung I fear : 
Yet evil whence ? in thee can harbour none, 
Created pure. But know that in the soul lOO 

Are many lesser faculties that serve 
Reason as chief: among these fiamcy next 
Her o£Bce holds ; of all external things, 
Which the five watchful senses represent, 
She forms imaginations, aery shapes, 105 

Which reason joining, or disjoining, frames 
All what we affirm, or what deny, and call 
Our knowledge or opinion ; then retires 
Into her private cell when nature rests. 
Oft in her absence mimic fancy wakes no 

To imitate her ; but, misjoining shapes. 
Wild work produces oft, and most in dreams, 
111 matching words and deeds long past or late. 
Some such resemblances methinks I find 
Of our last evening's talk in this thy dream, 116 
But with addition strange ; yet be not sad : 
Evil into the mind of God or man 
May come and go, so unapprov'd, and leave 
No spot or blame behind ; which gives me hope 
That what in sleep thou didst abhor to dream, 190 
Waking thou never wilt consent to do. 
Be not dishearten'd then, nor cloud those looks 

W7 God] God here signifies « angel.' See ver. 59 and 70. 



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That wont to be more cheerful and serene 
Than when fair morning first smiles on the world ; 
And let us to our fresh employments rise, 125 

Among the groves, the fountains, and the flowers, 
That open now their choicest hosom'd smells, 
Reserv'd from night, and kept for thee in store. 

So cheerM he his fair spouse, and she was cheerM ; 
But silently a gentle tear let fall 130 

From either eye, and wip'd them with her hair : 
Two other precious drops that ready stood. 
Each in their crystal sluice, he ere they fell 
Kiss'd as the gracious signs of sweet remorse, 
And pious awe that fearM to have offended. 135 

So all was clear'd, and to the field they haste. 
But first, from under shady arborous roof 
Soon as they forth were come to open sight 
Of dayspring and the sun, who, scarce uprisen 
With wheels yet hovering o'er the ocean brim, 140 
Shot parallel to the earth his dewy ray. 
Discovering in wide landscape all the east 
Of paradise and Eden's happy plains. 
Lowly they bow'd adoring, and began 
Their orisons, each morning duly paid 145 

In various style ; for neither various style 
Nor holy rapture wanted they to praise 
Their Maker, in fit strains pronounc'd or sung 

197 hosom'd] <Bo8om.' BenU. MS. 

137 roof] In Milton's own edition, a comma stands after <roof,' 
which Tickell, Fenton, Bentley followed. Pearce properly cor- 
rected it 


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BOOK V. 159 

Unmeditated, such prompt eloquence 
Flow'd from their lips, in prose or numerous verse, 
More tuneable than needed lute or harp i5i 

To add more sweetness ; and they thus began. 

These are thy glorious works. Parent of good. 
Almighty, thine this universal frame, 
Thus wondrous fair ; thyself how wondrous then! 155 
Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heavens, 
To us invisible, or dimly seen 
In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare 
Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. 
Speak ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, leo 
Angels, for ye behold him, and with songs 
And choral symphonies, day without night. 
Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in heaven. 
On earth join all ye creatures to extol 
Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. 166 
Fairest of stars, last in the train of night. 
If better thou belong not to the dawn. 
Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling mom 
With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere 
While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. iro 

Thou sun, of this great world both eye and soul. 
Acknowledge him thy greater, sound his praise 
In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st. 
And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou 

falPst 174 

^^ numeroua] * To enter David's numeratu fane.' 

Sandv\^ Psalms: Ded. 
i« Fairest] Horn. D. zxiL 318. and Ov, Met iL 114. J^TewUm. 


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Moon, that now meet'st the orient sun, now fly'st, 

With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies, 

And ye five other wandering fires that move 

In mystic dance not without song, resound 

His praise, who out of darkness callM up light 

Air, and ye elements the eldest birth iso 

Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run 

Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix 

And nourish all things, let your ceaseless change 

Vary to our great Maker still new praise. 

Ye mists and exhalations that now rise las 

From hill or steaming lake, dusky or grey, 

Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold, 

In honour to the world's great author rise. 

Whether to deck with clouds the uncolour'd sky, 

Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers, 190 

Rising or falling still advance his praise. 

His praise, ye winds that from four quarters blow, 

Breathe soft or loud ; and wave your tops, ye pines. 

With every plant, in sign of worship wave. 

Fountains and ye that warble, as ye flow, 195 

Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise : 

Join voices, all ye living souls, ye birds, 

^T^ five] 'Veram etiam qtdnque Stellas, qae vulgo vag^i nuncu- 

V. M^pvl, de Deo Socratis^ ed. Delph. vol. ii. p. 666. 
Ml qiusUrnum] Hey wood's Hier. p. 193. 

< What temions and classes be 
In the ctelestial hierarchie.* 


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BOOK v. 16] 

That singing up to heaven-gate ascend, 

Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise ; 

Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk 200 

The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep ; 

Witness if I be silent, mom or even, 

To hill, or valley, fountain, or fresh shade. 

Made vocal by my song, and taught hb praise. 

Hail universal Lord, be bounteous still 905 

To give us only good ; and if the night 

Have gather^ aught of evil, or conceal'd. 

Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark. 

So pray'd they innocent, and to their thoughts 
Firm peace recovered soon and wonted calm. 210 

On to their morning's rural work they haste. 
Among sweet dew$ and flowers, where any row n 
Of fruit-trees overwoody reached too far 
Their pamper'd boughs, and needed hands to check 
Fruitless embraces ; or they led the vine 215 

To wed her elm ; she spoused about him twines 
Her marriageable arms, and with her brings 
Her dow'r, th' adopted clusters, to adorn 
His barren leaves. Them thus employed beheld 
With pity heaven's high King, and to him calFd 220 
Raphael, the sociable spirit, that deigned 

^^ heaioen gate] So in Cymbeline, act ii. 8C« 3. 

* Hark ! hark, the lark at heaioen^t gate smga.' JVetrton. 
90O Te thai] How could the fish witness ? BerUL MS. 
^^ gtve] Not unlike the Prayer of Clytieninestra in Soph. Elect 
646. ^Dyce. 
917 maniageabU] See Apniei Apolog. p. 540. ed. Delph. 

VOL. I. 21 


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To travel with Tobias, and secur'd 

His marriage with the seventimes-wedded maid. 

Raphael, said he, thou hear'st what stir on earth 
Satan, from hell scap'd through the darksome gulf, 
Hath rais'd in paradise, and how disturbed 296 

This night the human pair; how he designs 
In them at once to ruin all mankind : 
Go therefore, half this day as friend with friend 
Converse with Adam, in what bower or shade 290 
Thou find'st him from the heat of noon retir'd, 
To respit his day-labour with repast, 
Or with repose ; and such discourse bring on, 
As may advise him of his happy state ; 
Happiness in his power left free to will, j»5 

Left to his own free will, his will though free, 
Yet mutable ; whence warn him to beware 
He swerve not too secure : tell him withal 
His danger, and from whom ; what enemy, 
Late falPn himself from heaven, is plotting now 240 
The fall of others from like state of bliss ; 
By violence ? no ; for that shall be withstood; 
But by deceit and lies ; this let him know. 
Lest wilfully transgressing he pretend 
Surprisal, unadmonish'd, unforewam'd. aiis 

So spake th' eternal Father, and fulfill'd 
All justice : nor delay'd the winged saint 
After his charge received ; but from among 
Thousand celestial ardours, where he stood 

•• ardours] * ardoan* mean the * seraphim.* It is one of the words 
med by Dante for angels. Todd, 


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BOOK V. 163 

Veil'd with his gorgeous wings, up springing light 250 

Flew through the midst of heaven; th^ angelic choirs, 

On each hand parting, to his speed gave way 

Through all th' empyreal road ; till at the gate 

Of heaven arriv'd, the gate self-openM wide 

On golden hinges turning, as by work 255 

Divine the sovereign Architect had fram'd. 

From hence, no cloud, or, to obstruct his sight. 

Star interposed, however small he sees, 

Not uneonfbrm to oihef shining globes, 

Earth and the garden of God, with cedars crown'd 

Above all hills : as when by night the glass 261 

Of Galileo, less assur'd, observes 

Imagined lands and regions in the moon : 

Or pilot from amidst the Cyclades 

Delos, or Samos, first appearing kens 965 

A cloudy spot. Down thither prone in flight 

He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky 

Sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing 

Now on the polar winds, then with quick fan 

Winnows the buxom air ; till within soar 270 

Of towering eagles, to all the fowls he seems 

A phoenix, gaz'd by all, as that sole bird, 

When, to inshrine his reliques in the sun's 

Bright temple, to Egyptian Thebes he flies. 

At once on th' eastern cliff* of paradise «75 

He lights, and to his proper shape returns 

9W prone] Virg. JSn. iv. 253. 

* Toto pnecepe se coipore ad undas 
Misit' J^ewian. 


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A seraph wing'd : six wings he wore, to shade 
His lineaments divine ; the pair that clad 
Each shoulder broad came mantling o'er his breast 
With regal ornament ; the middle pair 260 

Girt like a starry zone his waist, and round 
Skirted his loins and thighs with do\^ j gold 
And colours dipp'd in heaven ; the third his feet 
Shadowed from either heel with feathered mail 
Sky-tinctur'd grain. Like Maia's son he stood, 295 
And shook his plumes, that heavenly fragrance fill'd 

S77 shade] Statu SUy. iii. 4. 30. 

* Ex humeiis nulle fhlgentibas umfrro.' 
9B1 starry zow] Compare Marino's SL of the IxmoceQts, p. 50, st 
zcvL describing an angel. 

* When in celestial colours art contends 
With azure gold, and white with purest red. 
For skirts girt at the waste, then each depends 
Loosely, nor further than the knees are spread* 
Which, lest thy waving be too much displayed, 
A golden clasp restrains, with gems inlay'd. 
Extended on his shining back a pair 
Of ample wings their glorious colours show ; 
Most choice perfumes enrich his curling hair, 
And to the air the graceful tresses flow,' &c. 
9^ son] See Dante, II Purg. c. 8. 

( E yidi uscir dell' alto, e acender glue 
Du' Angeli con due spade aflbcate, 

Verdi, come fogliette pur mo nate, 
E^rano 'n Teste, che da verdi penne 
Percosse tra^n dietro e ventilate.' 
*• shook] Sannaz de Partu Virg. i. 107, 

* ingentes explicat alas 

Ac tectis late instietum diffandU odorem, 
and Fairfax's Tasso, lib. i. st 14. JVewion. Todd. 


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The circuit wide. Straight knew him all the bands 

Of angels under watch ; and to his state, 

And to his message high, in honour rise ; 

For on some message high they guess'd him bound. 

Their glittering tents he pass'd, and now is come 39i 

Into the blissful field, through groves of myrrh, 

And flow'ring odors, cassia, nard, and balm ; 

A wilderness of sweets ; for nature here 

Wanton'd as in her prime, and play'd at will 896 

Her virgin &ncies, pouring forth more sweet. 

Wild above rule or art , enormous bliss. 

Him through the spicy forest onward come 

Adam discerned, as in the door he sat 

Of his cool bower, while now the mounted sun 300 

Shot down direct his fervid rays, to warm 

Earth's inmost womb, more warmth than Adam 

needs ; 
And Eve within, due at her hour prepared 
For dinner savoury fruits, of taste to please 
True appetite, and not disrelish thirst 306 

Of nectarous draughts between, from milky stream. 
Berry, or grape; to whom thus Adam call'd. 

Haste hither. Eve, and worth thy sight behold 
Eastward among those trees, what glorious shape 

3^ milky tiream] v. Apulei Metam. L p. 27. ed. Delph. 

* En, inquam, explere latice fontes lacteo,* 
Beaumont's Psyche, c. iii. st 56. 

< And fix)m the mOkie shore of the next spring V 
*» what] See Dante, D Purgatorio, c. xii. I 

* Vedi coU un' Angel, che s' appresta , 
Per venir verso noi.' 


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Comes this way moving, seems another mom sio 
Ris'n on mid-noon ; some great behest from heav'n 
To us perhaps he brings, and will vouchsafe 
This day to be our guest. But go with speed, 
And what thy stores contain bring forth, and pour 
Abundance, fit to honour and receive 315 

Our heavenly stranger ; well we may afford 
Our givers their own gifts, and large bestow 
From lai^e bestow'd, where nature multiplies 
Her fertil growth, and by disburd'ning grows 
More fiiiitiul, which instructs us not to spare. 380 

To whom thus Eve. Adam, earth's hallow'd 
Of God inspired, small store will serve, where store 
All seasons ripe for use hangs on the stalk ; 
Save what by frugal storing firmness gains 
To nourish, and superfluous moist consumes. 395 
But I will haste, and from each bough and brake, 
Each plant and juiciest gourd, will pluck such choice 
To entertain our angel guest, as he 
Beholding shall confess, that here on earth 
God hath dispensed his bounties as in heav'n. S90 

So saying, with dispatchful looks in haste 
She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent 
What choice to choose for delicacy best, 

910 mom] See Crashaw's Delights, p. 52. 

< Who's this that comes arched in rajes that scorn 
Acquaintance with the Son ? What Mecond mom 
At middtof opes a presence ?* 

339 ekoiee to ekoote] So P. L. viu. 190. < move motion.' iz. 989. 
thoui^ts misthoug^ht' ad. 427. < sinned sin.' J^ewton, 


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BOOK V. 167 

What order, so contrivM as not to mix 
Tastes, not well joined, inelegant, but bring 335 

Taste after taste upheld with kindliest change ; 
Bestirs her then, and from each tender stalk 
Whatever earth, all-bearing mother, yields 
In India east or west, or middle shore, 
In Pontus, or the Punic coast, or where 340 

Alcinous reign'd, fruit of all kinds, in coat, 
Rough, or smooth rin'd, or bearded husk, or shell. 
She gathers, tribute large, and on the board 
Heaps with unsparing hand : for drink the grape 
She crushes, inoffensive must, and meathes 345 

From many a berry, and from sweet kernels press'd 
She tempers dulcet creams, nor these to hold 
Wants her fit vessels pure ; then strews the ground 
With rose and odours from the shrub unfrnn'd. 
Mean while our primitive great sire, to meet 350 
His god-like guest, walks forth, without more train 
Accompany'd than with his own complete 
Perfections ; in himself was all his state. 
More solemn than the tedious pomp that waits 
On princes, when their rich retinue long 355 

Of horses led and grooms besmear'd with gold 
Dazzles the crowd, and sets them all agape. 
Nearer his presence Adam, though not aw'd, 

9« vessda] The shell of the fruits. See Book iv. ver. 335. 

* and in the nnd. 

Still as they thirsted, scoop the brimming stream.' 
»6 heameof^d] Hor. Od. iv. 9. 14. 

< Aurmn vestibus illitumJ' Hume, 
357 agape] agaze. BenfL MS 


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Yet with submbs approach and reverence meek. 
As to a superior nature, bowing low, 96o 

Thus said. Native of heaven, for other place 
None can than heaven such glorious shape contain, 
Since by descending from the thrones above, 
Those happy places thou hast deign'd a while 
To want, and honour these, vouchsafe with us 966 
Two only, who yet by sovereign gift possess 
This spacious ground, in yonder shady bower 
To rest, and what the garden choicest bears 
To sit and taste, till this meridian heat 
Be over, and the sun more cool decline. 37D 

Whom thus the angelic Virtue answer'd mild. 
Adam, I therefore came, nor art thou such 
Created, or such place hast here to dwell, 
Ais may not oft invite, though spirits of heaven. 
To visit thee : lead on then where thy bower 375 
O'ershades ; for these mid-hours, till evening rise, 
I have at will. So to the sylvan lodge 
They came, that like Pomona's arbour smiPd 
With flowerets deckM and fragrant smells : but Eve 
UndeckM, save with her self, more lovely fair 380 
Than wood-nymph, or the fairest goddess feign'd 
Of three that in Mount Ida naked strove. 
Stood to entertain her guest from heaven ; no veil 
She needed, virtue-proof; no thought infirm 
Altered her cheek. On whom the angel Hail 385 
Bestow'd, the holy salutation us'd 
Long after to blest Mary, second Eve. 

Hail, mother of mankind! whose fruitful womb 


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800K V. 169 

Shall fill the world more numerous with thj sons, 

Than with these various fruits the trees of God 390 

Have heap'd this table, Rais'd of grassy turf 

Their table was, and mossy seats had round, 

And on her ample square from side to side 

All autumn pil'd, though spring and autumn here 

Danc'd hand in hand. A while discourse they hold, 

No fear lest dinner cool, when thus began 

Our author. Heavenly stranger, please to taste 

These bounties which our Nourisher, from whom 

All perfect good unmeasurM out descends. 

To us for food and for delight hath caus'd 4oa 

The earth to yield ; unsavoury food, perhaps, 

To spiritual natures : only this I know. 

That one celestial Father gives to all. 

To whom the angel. Therefore what he gives, 
(Whose praise be ever sung,) to man in part 405 

Spiritual, may of purest spirits be found 
No ingrateful food : and food alike those pure 
Intelligential substances require, 
As doth your rational ; and both contain 
Within them every lower faculty 4io 

Of sense, whereby they hear, see, smell, touch, taste, 
Tasting concoct, digest, assimilate. 
And corporeal to incorporeal turn. 
For know, whatever was created needs 
To be sustained and fed ; of elements 4i5 

The grosser feeds the purer ; earth the sea ; 
Earth and the sea feed air; the air those fires 
Ethereal ; and as lowest first the moon ; 

VOL. I. 22 


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Whence in her visage round those spots, unpurgM 
Vapours not yet into her substance tum'd. 420 

Y^ Nor doth the moon no nourishment exhale 
From her moist continent to higher orbs. 
The sun, that light imparts to all, receives 
From all his alimental recompence 
In humid exhalations, and at even 425 

Sups with.. the ocean. Though in heaven the trees 
Of life ambrosial fruitage bear, and vines 
Yield nectar ; tho' from off the boughs each morn 
We brush mellifluous dews, and find the ground 
Covered with pearly grain ; yet God hath here 430 
Varied his bounty so with new delights, 
As may compare with heaven ; and to taste 
Think not I shall be nice. So down they sat. 
And to their viands fell ; nor seemingly 
The angel, nor in mist, the common gloss 436 

Of theologians, but with keen dispatch 
Of real hunger, and concoctive heat 
To transubstantiate : what redounds, transpires 
Through spirits with ease ; nor wonder ; if by fire 
Of sooty coal the empyric alchymist 440 

Can turn, or holds it possible to turn, 
Metals of drossiest ore to perfect gold 

^v moigf] Marino's SI. of the Innocents, lib. u. st zcy. 
< From the cold frost of that nunst orhe secure.' 
In Hamlet, act L s. 1. the moon is called < nunst star.' TodtL 
^* Sups] Lovelace's Post Poems, p. 15. 

< The sun sups with the deep.' TodtL 
<* trees] See Merrick's Triphiodorus, ver. 252. 


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BOOK V. 171 

As from the mine. Mean while at table Eve 

Minister'd naked, and their flowing cups 

With pleasant liquors ciown'd. O innocence 445 

Deserving paradise ! if ever, then, 

Then had the sons of God excuse to have been 

Enamour'd at tliat sight ; but in those hearts 

Love unlibidinous reign'd, nor jealousy 

Was understood, the injured lover's hell. 450 

Thus when with meats and drinks they had suffic'd, 
Not burden'd nature, sudden mind arose 
In Adam, not to let th' occasion pass. 
Given him by this great conference, to know 
Of things above his world, and of their being 465 
Who dwell in heaven, whose excellence he saw 
Transcend his own so far ; whose radiant forms, 
Divine effulgence, whose high power so far 
Exceeded human ; and his wary speech 
Thus to th' empyreal minister he fram'd. 460 

Inhabitant with God, now know I well 
Thy favour, in this honour done to man. 
Under whose lowly roof thou hast vouchsaPd 
To enter, and these earthly fryits to taste, 
Food not of angels, yet accepted so, 465 

As that more willingly thou could'st not seem 
At heaven's high feasts, to have fed: yet what 
. compare ? 

To whom the winged Hierarch reply'd. 
O Adam, one Almighty is, from whom 

443 nUne] <Mint' Bena.MS. 

*» his] Tickell, Fenton, Bentley, read «this' comiptty. 


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7^ All things proceed, and up to him return, 470 

If not deprav'd from good, created all 
Such to perfection, one first matter all, 
Indu'd with various forms, various degrees 
Of substance, and, in things that live, of life : 
But more refin'd, more spirituous, and pure, 475 
As nearer to him plac'd, or nearer tending. 
Each in their several active spheres assigned. 
Till body up to spirit work, in bounds 
Proportioned to each kind. So from the root 
Springs lighter the green stalk, from thence the 
leaves 480 

More aery, last the bright consummate flower 
Spirits odorous breathes ; flowers and their fruit, 
Man's nourishment, by gradual scale sublim'd. 
To vital spirits aspire, to animal, 
To intellectual; give both life and sense, - 486 
Fancy and understanding; whence the soul 
Reason receives, and reason is her being. 
Discursive or intuitive ; discourse 
Is oftest yours, the latter most is ours, 
Di£fering but in degree, of kind the same. 490 

Wonder not then, what God for you saw good 
If I refuse not, but convert, as you, 
To proper substance : time may come, when men 
With angels may participate, and find 
No inconvenient diet, nor too light fare : 495 

And from these corporal nutriments perhaps 

4® odofwu] So Marino's SI. of the Inn. by T. R. p. 60. 
< The faiUfly and dales that plants (MJdixMtf bore.* Todd. 


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BOOK V. 178 

Your bodies may at last mm all to spirit, 

Improy'd by tract of time^ and wing'd ascend 

Ethereal, as we, or may at choice 

Here or in heavenly paradises dwell ; 600 

If ye be found obedient, and retain 

Unalterably firm his love entire. 

Whose progeny you are. Mean while enjoy 

Your fill what happiness this happy state 

Can comprehend, incapable of more. so& 

To whom the patriarch of mankind replyM. 
O favourable spirit, propitious guest. 
Well hast thou taught the way that might direct 
Our knowledge, and the scale of nature set 
From centre to circumference, whereon 6io 

In contemplation of created things 
By steps we may ascend to God. But say. 
What meant that caution join'd, if ye be found 
Obedient ? Can we want obedience then 
To him, or possibly his love desert, 516 

Who formed us from the dust and plac'd us here 
Full to the utmost measure of what bliss 
Human desires can seek or apprehend ? 

To whom the angel. Son of heav'n and earth 
Attend : that thou art happy, owe to God ; 69o 

That thou continu'st such, owe to thy self. 
That is, to thy obedience ; therein stand. 
This was that caution giv'n thee ; be advis'd. 
God made thee perfect, not immutable ; 
And good he made thee, but to persevere 596 

He left it in thy power, ordain'd thy will 


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By nature free, not over-rul'd by fate 
Inextricable, or strict necessity : 
Our voluntary service he requires, 
Not our necessitated; such with him sao 

Finds no acceptance, nor can find ; for how 
Can hearts, not free, be try'd whether they ^erve 
Willing or no, who will but what they must 
By destiny, and can no other choose ? 
My self and all th' angelic host, that stand 535 

In sight of God enthroned, our happy state 
Hold, as you yours, while our obedience holds ; 
On other surety none ; freely we serve. 
Because we freely love, as in our will 
To love or not ; in this we stand or fall. 540 

And some are fall'n, to disobedience fall'n. 
And so from heaven to deepest hell : O fall 
^^ From what high state of bliss into what wo% ! 
To whom our great progenitor. Thy words 
Attentive, and with more delighted ear, 545 

Divine instructor, I have heard, than when 
Cherubic songs by night from neighbouring hills 
Aereal music send : nor knew I not 
To be both will and deed created free ; 
Yet that we never shall forget to love 550 

Our maker, and obey him whose command 
Single is yet so just, my constant thoughts 
Assur'd me, and still assure : though what thou tell'st 
Hath past in heav'n, some doubt within me move, 
But more desire to hear, if thou consent, 555 

The full relation, which must needs be strange, 


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BOOK V. 175 

Worthy of sacred silence to be beard ; 
And we have yet large day, for scarce the sun 
Hath finished half his journey, and scarce begins 
His other half in the great zone of heaven. 660 

Thus Adam made request, and Raphael, 
After short pause, assenting thus began. 

High matter thou enjcmi'st me, (> prime of men, 
Sad task and hard ; for how shall I relate 
To human sense th' invisible exploits 566 

Of warring spirits ? how without remorse 
The ruin of so many, glorious once 
And perfect while they stood ? how last unfold 
The secrets of another world, perhaps 
Not lawful to reveal ? yet for thy good, 570 

This is dispensed, and what surmounts the reach 
Of human sense I shall delineate, so. 
By likening spiritual to corporal forms, 
As may express them best ; though what if earth 
Be but the shadow of heaven ; and things therein 
Each to other like, more than on earth is thought? 

As yet this world was not, and Chaos wild 
Reign'd where these heaven's now roll, where earth 

now rests 
Upon her centre pois'd; when on a day, 
(For time, though in eternity, apply'd . .580 

To motion, measures all things durable 
By present, past, and future ;) on such day 

957 Mcred] Hot. Od. iL la 29. 

< Utrumqae sacro digna silentio.' RUhardson, 
^^ pait^d] Ov. Met L la 'PonderibuB libnta suia.' JVetffton. 


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As heav'n's great year brings forth, th' empyreal host 

Of angels, by imperial summons call'd, 

Innumerable before th' Almighty's throne 585 

Forthwith from all the ends of heaven appeared ; 

Under their hierarchs in orders bright ; 

Ten thousand thousand ensigns high adranc'd, 

Standards and gonfalons twixt van and rear 

Stream in the air, and for distinction serve eoo 

Of hierarchies, of orders, and degrees : 

Or in their glittering tissues bear imblaz'd 

Holy memorials, acts of zeal and love 

Recorded eminent. Thus when in orbs 

Of circuit inexpressible they stood, 696 

Orb within orb, the Father infinite. 

By whom in bliss imbosom'd sat the Son, 

Amidst as from a flaming mount, whose top 

Brightness had made invisible, thus spake. 

Hear all ye angels, progeny of light, eoo 

Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers, 
Hear my decree, which unrevok'd shall stand. 
This day I have begot whom I declare 
My only Son, and on this holy hill 
Him have anointed, whom ye now behold eos 

At my right hand ; your head I him appoint ; 
And by my Self have sworn to him shall bow 
All knees in heaven, and shall confess him Lord. 

^^ Thrones] < By all the Thrones, and Dominations, Virtues, and 
PoweiB, and mighty hierarchies.' See Stafford's Mohe dissolved into 
a JS/Uus, 1611, p. 17. See also Greene's Hist of Fiiar Bacon, p. 36 ; 
and Sir. Lindsay's Works, ed. Ghalfaiers, vol. i. p. 215 — 6. 


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BOOK V. ^ « 177 

Under his great vice-gerent reign abide 

United, as one individual soul, 6io 

Fbr ever happy : him who disobeys, 

Me disobeys, breaks union, and, that day 

Cast out from God and blessed vision, falls 

Into utter darkness, deep ingulf d, his place 

Ordain'd without redemption, without end. 615 

So «pake th' Omnipotent, and with his words 
All seem'd well pleas'd ; all seem'd, but were not all. 
That day, as other solemn days, they spent 
In song and dance about the sacred hill. 
Mystical dance, which yonder starry sphere eao 

Of planets and of fix'd in all her wheels 
Resembles nearest, mazes intricate. 
Eccentric, intervolv'd, yet regular 
Then most, when most irregular they seem ; 
And in their motions harmony divme 626 

So smooths her charming tones, that God's own ear 
Listens delighted. Evening now approach'd, 
(For we have also our ev'ning and our mom. 
We ours for change delectable, not need,) 
Forthwith from dance to sweet repast they turn 68O 
Desirous; all in circles as they stood. 
Tables are set, and on a sudden pil'd 
With angels food, and rubied nectar flows. 
In pearl, in diamond, and massy gold ; 
Fruit of delicious vines, the growth of heaven. ess 
On flowers repos'd and with fresh flowrets crown'd, 

833 rubied] Nectar of the colour of rabies. Horn. TL xix. 38, 
VOL. I. 23 


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They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet 

Quaff immortality and joy, secure 

Of surfeit where full measure only bounds 

Excess, before th' all-bounteous King, who shower'd 

With copious hand, rejoicing in their joy. 641 

Now when ambrosial night with clouds exhaPd 

From that high mount of God, whence light and shade 

Spring both, the face of brightest heaven had changed 

To grateful twilight, (for night comes not there 645. 

In darker veil,) and roseate dews dispos'd 

All but the unsleeping eyes of God to rest. 

Wide over all the plain, and wider far 

Than all this globous earth in plain out spread, 

(Such are the courts of God,) th' angelic throng 66o 

Dispers'd in bands and files their camp extend 

By living streams among the trees of life. 

Pavilions numberless and sudden rearM, 

Celestial tabernacles, where they sl^pt 654 

Fanned with cool winds, save those who in their course 

Melodious hymns about the sov'reign throne 

Alternate all night long. But not so wak'd 

Satan, (so call him now, his former name 

Is heard no more in heaven;) he of the first, 

037 In the first ed. the passage stood thus : 

* They eat, they drink, and with refection sweet 
Are filled, hefore the all-hounteous King,' &c. J^ewton, 
M* ambnmal] Horn. H. iL 57. *AfA^qoaltiv diA Hxra, Newton. 
^ ro9eaU] roscid. BenO. MS. 

<M0 giobaut earth] So in the Doctrine of Divorce, p. 308, ed. 
Bnmet * Circling upwards can make firom the gkby sea whereon 
she stands.' 


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BOOK V. • 179 

If not the first arch-angel, great in power, eeo 

In favour and preemmence, yet fraught 
With envy against the Son of God, that day 
Honour'd by his great Father, and proclaimed 
Messiah King anointed, could not bear 664 

Thro' pride that sight, and thought himself impaired. / 
Deep malice thence conceiving and disdain. 
Soon as midnight brought on the dusky hour. 
Friendliest to sleep and silence, he resolv'd 
With all his legions to dislodge, and leave 
Unvirorship'd, unobeyed, the throne supreme, ero 

Contemptuous, and his next subordinate 
Awak'ning, thus to him in secret spake. 

Sleep'st thou, companion dear, what sleep can close 
Thy eyelids ? and remember'st what decree 
Of yesterday so late hath past the lips 675 

Of heaven's Almighty? Thou to me thy thoughts 
Wast wont, I mine to thee was wont to impart : 
Both waking we were one ; how then can now 
Thy sleep dissent ? new laws thou see'st impos'd ; 
New laws from him who reigns new minds may raise 
In us who serve, new counsels, to debate 68i 

What doubtful may ensue ; more in this place 
To utter is not safe. Assemble thou 
Of all those myriads which we lead the chief ; 
Tell them, that by command, ere yet dim night 685 
Her shadowy cloud withdraws, I am to haste. 
And all who under me their banners wave, 

<79 SU^^H ihau] See Noimi DionyBiaca, lib. xxix, v. 338. 


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Homeward with flying march, where we possess 
The quarters of the north, there to prepare 
Fit entertainment to receive our King 690 

The great Messiah, and his new commands ; 
Who speedily through all the hierarchies 
Intends to pass triumphant, and give laws. 

So spake the false arch-angel, and infus'd 
Bad influence into th' unwary breast 695 

Of his associate ; he together calls, 
Or several one by one, the regent powers. 
Under him regent; tells, as he was taught, 
That, the Most High commanding, now ere night, 
Now ere dim night had disincumber'd heaven, 700 
The great hierarchal standard was to move ; 
Tells the suggested cause, and casts between 
Ambiguous words and jealousies, to sound 
Or taint integrity : but all obey'd 
The wonted signal, and superior voice 705 

Of their great potentate ; for great indeed 
His name, and high was his degree in heaven ; 
His countenance, as the morning star that guides 
The starry flock, allur'd them, and with lies 
Drew after him the third part of heaven's host, no 

Mean while th' eternal Eye, whose sight discerns 
Abstrusest thoughts, from forth his holy mount. 
And from within the golden lamps that burn 

706 morvxng «tor] So in an Epigram of the elder Scaliger, Poemata, 
p. 120, ed. 1591 ; 

< Lucifer, aurati pecoris cordate magister, 
Coge gregem.' JL Dyce. 


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BOOK V. 181 

Nightly before him, saw without their light 
Rebellion rising, saw in whom, how spread 715 

Among the sons of mom, what multitudes 
Were banded to oppose his high decree; 
And smiling to his only Son thus said. 

Son, thou in whom my glory I behold 
In full resplendence, heir of all my might, tso 

Nearly it now concerns us to be sure 
Of our omnipotence, and with what arms 
We mean to hold what antiently we claim 
Of deity or empire ; such a foe 
Is rising, who hitends to erect his throne 7S6 

Equal to ours, throughout the spacious north ; 
Nor so content, hath in his thought to try 
In battle, what our powet is, or our right. 
Let us advise, and to this hazard draw 
With speed what force is left, and all employ 730 
In our defence, lest unawares we lose 
This our high place, our sanctuary, our hill. 

To whom the Son with calm aspect and clear 
Lightening divine, ineffable, serene. 
Made answer. Mighty Father, thou thy foes 735 
Justly hast in derision, and secure 
Laugh'st at their vain designs and tumults vain. 
Matter to me of glory, whom their hate 
Illustrates, when they see all regal power 

'^^ WM of mom] So he calls the angels in H. on the Nativity, 
St xii. 

* But when of old the g&ns ofmaming sung.' 
See Isaiah, xiv. 1*2. Todd. 


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Given me to quell their pride, and in event 740 

Know whether I be dextrous to subdue 
Thy rebels, or be found the worst in heaven. 

So spake the Son : but Satan with his powers 
Far was advanc'd on winged Bpeed, an host 
Innumerable as the stars of night, 745 

Or stars of morning, dewdrops, which the sun 
Impearls on every leaf and every flower. 
Regions they pass'd, the mighty regencies 
Of Seraphim, and Potentates, and Thrones 
In their triple degrees; regions to which 760 

All thy dominion, Adam, is no more 
Than what this garden is to all the earth. 
And all the sea, from one entire globose 
Stretch'd into longitude ; which having pass'd. 
At length into the limits of the north 766 

They came, and Satan to his royal seat 
High on a hill, far blazing, as a mount 
Rais'd on a mount, with pyramids and tow'rs 
From diamond quarries hewn, and rocks of gold, 
The palace of great Lucifer, (so call tbo 

That structure in the dialect of men 
Interpreted,) which not long after he^ 
Affecting all equality with God, 
In imitation of that mount whereon 

748 aUin of morning] Cadmir Sarb. Cann. ii. 4. 1. calls the dewi, 
< SteUole nootis decedentiB.' 
747 hnpemia] Sjlv. Da Bartas, p. 70. 

*the floweiy meads 

fmpemUd tr^ Uan^ which sweet Aurora aheds.' TadUL 



BOOK V. 183 

Messiah was declar'd in sight of heaven, 765 

The mountain of the congregation call'd ; 
For thither he assembled all his train, 
Pretending so commanded to consult 
About the great reception of their king, 
Thither to come, and with calumnious art tto 

Of counterfeited truth thus held their ears. 
Thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, 
If these magnific titles yet remain 
Not merely titular, since by decree 
Another now hath to himself ingross'd 775 

All power, and us eclips'd under the name 
Of king anointed, for whom all this haste 
Of midnight march and hurry'd meeting here,. 
This only to consult how we may best 
With what may be devis'd of honours new 780 

Receive him, coming to receive from us 
Knee-tribute yet unpaid, prostration vile; 
Too much to one, but double how endur'd. 
To one and to his image now proclaim'd ! 
But what if better counsels might erect 785 

Our minds, and teach us to cast off this yoke? 
Will ye submit your necks, and choose to bend 
The supple knee? ye will not, if I trust 
To know ye right, or if ye know yourselves 
Natives and sons of heaven, possest before 790 

By none, and if not equal all, yet free, 

7BB knu] Shakesp. Richard II. act L scene iy. 

< And had the tribute of his suppie knee.* Todd 


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Equally free ; for orders and degrees 

Jar not with liberty, but well consist. 

Who can in reason then or right assume 

Monarchy over such as live by right 795 

His equals, if in power and splendour less. 

In freedom equal ? or can introduce 

Law and edict on us, who without law 

Err not ? much less for this to be our Lord, 

And look for adoration to th' abuse 800 

Of those imperial titles, which assert 

Our being ordain'd to govern, not to serve ! 

Thus far his bold discourse without control 
Had audience, when among the seraphim 
Abdiel, than whom none with more zeal ador'd 806 
The Deity, and divine commands obey'd. 
Stood up, and in a flame of zeal severe 
The current of his fury thus oppos'd. 

O argument blasphemous, false, and proud ! 
Words which no ear ever to hear in heaven sio 

^w miuek less] Thk passage is considered as one of the most 
difficult in Milton. Bentley, Pearce, Richardson, Greenwood, War- 
burton, and Newton, have given their different inteipretations. 1 
differ firom them, as they caziy back the force of * much less' to what 
has past 1 consider one argument concluded at < err not,' and that 
< much less,' beginning a new one, looks forward ; and I thus explain 
it : ' Much less reason has he to be called our Lord, and consequently 
to look ibr adoration from us, when it must be at the expense, or 
abuse of those imperial titles which in themselves assert our own 
sovereignly, and our consequent immunily firom servitude.' He 
alludes to the titles given the angels. < Thrones, dominations, 
princedoms,' &c. this argument Abdiel answers, v. 831. I trust that 
this explanation will be considered as satisfactory. 

^ /or i^] for. This. Iste. Bena.MS. 


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BOOK V. 186 

Expected, least of all from thee, ingrate, 
In place thyself so high above thy peers. 
Canst thou with impious obloquy condemn 
The just decree of Goi>, pronounc'd and sworn, 
That to his only Son, by right endu'd 816 

With regal sceptre, every soul in heaven 
Shall bend the knee, and in that honouf doe 
Confess him rightful king ? unjust thou say'st. 
Flatly unjust, to bind with laws the free, 
And equal over equals to let reign, 820 

One over all with unsucceeded power. 
Shalt thou give law to God ? shalt thou dispute 
With him the points of liberty, who made 
Thee what thou art, and form'd the pow'rs of heaven 
Such as he pleas'd, and circumscrib'd their being ? 
Yet by experience taught we know how good, 
And of our good, and of our dignity 
How provident he is, how far from thought 
To make us less, bent rather to exalt 
Our happy state under one head more near 830 

United. But to grant it thee unjust. 
That equal over equals monarch reign : 
Thyself though great and glorious d^t thou count, 
Or all angelic nature join'd in one. 
Equal to him begotten Son, by whom , 835 

As by his word the mighty Father made 
All things, ev'n thee, and all the spirits of heaven 
By him created in their bright degrees, 
Crown'd them with glory, and to their glory nam'd 
Thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers, 
VOL. I. . 24 


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Essential powers; nor by his reign obscur'd, 84i 

But more illustrious made, since he the head 
One of our number thus redue'd becomes ; 
His laws our laws, all honour to him done 
Returns our own ? Cease then this impious ragCy 
And tempt not these ; but hasten to appease 846 
Th' incensed Father, and th' incensed Son, 
While pardon may be found in time besought. 

So spake the fervent angel ; but his zeal 
None seconded, as out of season judg'd, 850 

Or singular and rash ; whereat rejoic'd 
Th' Apostate, and more haughty thus reply'd. 
That we were form'd then say'st thou? and the 

Of secondary hands, by task transferr'd 
From Father to bis Son ? strange point and new ! 
Doctrine which we would know whence learnM : 

who saw 856 

When this creation was? riemember'st thou 
Thy making, while the Maker gave thee being ? 
We know no time when we were not as now; 
Know none before us, self-begot, self-rais'd seo 

By our own quick'ning power, when fatal course 
Had circled his full orb, the birth mature 
Of this our native heaven, ethereal sons. 
Our puissance is our own, our own right hand 
Shall teach us highest deeds, by proof to try 885 
Who is our equal : then thou shalt behold 
Whether by supplication we intend 
Address, and to begirt th' Almighty throne 


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BOOK V. 187 

Beseeching or besieging. This report, 

These tidings carry to th' anointed king ; 870 

And fly, ere evil intercept thy flight. 

He said, and, as the sound of waters deep, 
Hoarse murmur echo'd to his words applause 
Through the infinite host ; nor less for that 
The flaming seraph fearless, though alone 875 

Encompass'd round with foes, thus answer'd bold. 

O alienate from God, O spirit accurst, 
Forsaken of all good, I see thy fall 
Determin'd, and thy hapless crew involved 
In this perfidious fraud, contagion spread sao 

Both of thy crime and punishment. Henceforth 
No more be troubled how to quit the yoke 
Of God's Messiah ; those indulgent laws 
Will not be now vouchsafed, other decrees 
Against thee are gone forth vnthout recall : 886 

That golden sceptre which thou didst reject 
Is now an iron rod, to bruise and break 
Thy disobedience. Well thou didst advise ; 
Yet not for thy advice or threats I fly 
These wicked tents devoted, lest the wrath 890 

<^ BueeeMng] See Heywood's Spider and File, p. 376. 
* Myne answere is, not a hames cap-appie 
Bedegfing (stead of beseeching).' 
^^ ,^0111111^] < Each flaming seraph.' 

V. BeaumonPs Payckej c. xzix. st 184. 
OS Thf diiobeilKence] Thee disobedient, v. 2. 708, b. 139, b. 687. 

s"> kti] The constraction is deficient Peazce would understand, 
< but I fly* before < lest' Bentley proposes reading, 

* These wicked tents devote, hut lest the wrath,' &c. Mwfon. 


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Impendent raging into sudden flame 

Distinguish not; for soon expect to feel 

His thunder on thy head, devouring fire. 

Then who created thee lamenting learn, 

When who can uncreate thee thou shalt know. 895 

So spake the seraph Abdiel faithful found. 
Among the faithless faithful only he : 
Among innumerable false unmov'd, 
Unshaken, unseduc'd, unterrify'd. 
His lojralty he kept, his love, his zeal ; 900 

Nor number, nor example with hun wrought 
To swerve from truth, or change his constant mind 
Though single. From amidst them forth he pass'd. 
Long way through hostile scorn, which he sustain'd 
Superior, nor of violence fear'd aught ; 905 

And with retorted scorn his back he tum'd 
On those proud tow'rs to swift destruction doom'd. 


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Raphaxi. continues to relate how Michael and Gahriel were sent 
forth to battle against Satan and his angels. The first fight de> 
scribed: Satan and his powers retire under night: he calls a 
council, invents devilish engines, which in the second day's fight put 
Michael and his fuigels to some disorder ; hut they at length pulling 
up mountains overwhelmed both the force and machines of Satan ; 
yet the tumult not so ending, God on the third day sends Messiah 
his Son, for whom he had reserved the glory of that victory. He in 
the power of his Father coming to the place, and causing all his 
legions to stand still on either side, with his chariot and thunder 
driving into the midst of his enemies, pursues them unable to resist 
towards the wall of heaven ; which opening, they leap down with 
horror and confusion into the place of punishment prepared for them 
in the deep. Messiah returns with triumph to his Father. 

All night the dreadless angel unpursuM [morn. 
Through heaven's wide champain held his way, till 
Wak'd by the circling hours, with rosy hand 
Unbarr'd the gates of light. There is a cave 
Within the mount of God, fast by his throne, 5 

Where light and darkness in perpetual round 
Lodge and dislodge by turns, which makes through 

7 Lodge] This thought borrowed from Hesiod. Theog. 748. 



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Grateful vicissitude, like day and nigkt: 
Light issues forth, and at the other door 
Obsequious darkness enters, till her hour to 

To veil the heaven, though darkness there might well 
Seem twilight here ; and now went forth the morn 
Such as in liighest heaven, array 'd in gold 
Empyreal; from before her vanished night. 
Shot through with orient beams : when all the plain 
CoverM with thick embattle'd squadrons bright, i6 
Chariots, and flaming arms, and fiery steeds. 
Reflecting blaze on blaze, first met his view. 
War he perceiv'd, war in procinct, and found 
Already known what he for news had thought so 
To have reported : gladly then he mix'd 
Among those friendly powers, who him received 
With joy and acclamations loud, that one, 
That of so many myriads falPn yet one 
Retum'd not lost. On to the sacred hill S5 

They led him high applauded, and present 
Before the seat supreme ; firom whence a voice 
From midst a golden cloud thus mild was heard. 

Servant of God, well done, well hast thou fought 
The better fight, who single hast maintained 30 

Against revolted multitudes the cause 
Of truth, in word mightier than they in arms ; 
And for the testimony of truth hast borne 
Universal reproach, far worse to bear 
Than violence : for this was all thy care, 36 

^^ Ohaeqmotu] opacous. BenU. MS. 

1^ vanMd] Some editions absuidly read * vanquish'd«' JVkui&n, 




To Stand approv'd in sight of God, though worlds 

Judg'd thee perverse. The easier conquest now 

Remains thee, aided by this host of friends, 

Back on thy foes more glorious to return 

Than scorn'd thou didst depart, and to subdue 40 

By force, who reason for their law refuse. 

Right reason for their law, and for their king 

Messiah, who by right of merit reigns. 

Go, Michael of celestial armies prince. 

And thou, in military prowess next, 45 

Gabriel, lead forth to battle these my sons 

Invincible, lead forth my armed Saints 

By thousands and by millions rang'd for fight ; 

Equal in number to that godless crew 

Rebellious ; them with fire and hostile arms 60 

Fearless assault, and to the brow of heav'n 

Pursuing drive them out from God and bliss, 

Into their place of punishment, the gulf 

Of Tartarus, which ready opens wide 

His fiery chaos to receive their fall. 65 

So spake the sovereign voice, and clouds began 
To darken all the hill, and smoke to roll 
In dusky wreaths reluctant flames, the sign 
Of wrath awak'd : nor with less dread the loud 
Ethereal trumpet from on high 'gan blow : go 

At which command the powers militant 
That stood for heaven, in mighty quadrate join'd 
Of union irresistible, mov'd on 

«> EfherefO] Archangel. BenU. MS. 


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In silence their bright legions, to the sound 

Of instrumental harmony, that breath'd 66 

Heroic ardour to advent'rous deeds. 

Under their godlike leaders, in the cause 

Of God and his Messiah. On they move 

Indissolubly firm ; nor obvious hill. 

Nor strait'ning vale, nor wood, nor stream, divides td 

Their perfect ranks ; for high above the ground 

Their march was, and the passive air upbore 

Their nimble tread ; as when the total kind 

Of birds in orderly array on wing 

Came summon'd over Eden to receive 75 

Their nsunes of thee : so over many a tract 

Of heav'n they march'd, and many a province wide 

Tenfold the length of this terrene. At last 

Far in th' horizon to the north appear'd 

From skirt to skirt a fiery region, stretch'd so 

In battailous aspect, and nearer view 

Bristled with upright beams innumerable 

Of rigid spears, and helmets throng'd, and shields 

Various, with boastful argument portray'd, 

The banded powers of Satan hasting on 85 

With furious expedition ; for they ween'd 

That self-same day, by fight or by surprize. 

To win the mount of God, and on his throne 

To set the envier of his state, the proud 

Aspirer ; but their thoughts prov'd fond and vain 90 

In the mid way. Though strange to us it seem'd 

® BrisiUd] Virg. JExl zL 601. <Tmn late ferreus hastis horrei 
ager.' ATewUm. 


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BOOK VI. 198 

At first, that angel should with angel war, 

And in fierce hosting meet, who wont to meet 

So oft in festivals of joy and love 

Unanimous, as sons of one great Sire, 95 

Hymning th' eternal Father ; but the shout 

Of battle now began, and rushing sound 

Of onset ended soon each milder thought. 

High in the midst exalted as a God 

Th' apostate in his sun-bright chariot sat, lOO 

Idol of Majesty divine, enclos'd 

With flaming cherubim and golden shields : 

Then lighted from his gorgeous throne, for now 

Twixt host and host but narrow space was left, 

A dreadful interval, and frcMit to front los 

Presented stood in terrible array 

Of hideous length : before the cloudy van. 

On the rough edge of battle ere it joined, 

Satan, with vast and haughty strides advanced, 

Came towering, arm'd in adamant and gold : no 

Abdiel that sight endur'd not, where he stood 

Among the mightiest, bent on highest deeds, 

And thus his own undaunted heart explores. 

O heaven ! that such resemblance of the Highest 
Should yet remain, where faith and realty ii6 

Remain not; wherefore should not strength and 

There fail where virtue fails, or weakest prove 


^ koHii^] JohnBon has cited this unusual word firom Spenser m 
Ireland. * Leading of their own followers to the general hostmggj 
^^ dreadfid mUrvaS] ^ a needful counterview.* x. 231. BenO, MS. 

YOL. I. 25 


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Where boldest, though to sight unconquerable ? 
His puissance, trusting in th' Almighty's aid, 
I mean to try, whose reason I have try'd lao 

Unsound and false ; nor is it aught but just, 
That he, who in debate of truth hath won, 
Should win in arms, in both disputes alike 
Victor : though brutish that contest and foul, 
When reason hath to deal with force, yet so 125 
Most reason is that reason overcome* 

So pondering, and, from his armed peers 
Forth stepping opposite, half way he met 
His daring foe, at this prevention more 
Incens'd, and thus securely him defied. 130 

Proud, art thou met? thy hope was to have 
The highth of thy aspiring unoppos'd. 
The throne of God unguarded, and his side 
Abandon'd at the terror of thy power 
Or potent tongue ; fool, not to think how vain 135 
Against th' Omnipotent to rise in arms ; 
Who out of smallest things could without end 
Have rais'd incessant armies to defeat 
Thy folly ; or, with solitary hand 
Reaching beyond all limit, at one blow 140 

Unaided could have finish'd thee, and whelm'd 
Thy legions under darkness : but thou seest 
All are not of thy train ; there be^ who faith 
Prefer and piety to God ; though then 
To thee not visible, when I alone 146 

Seem'd in thy world erroneous to dissent 


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BOOK^ VI. 195 

From all : my sect thou seest ; now leam too late 
How few sometimes may know, when thousands err. 

Whom the grand foe, with scornful eye askance, 
Thus answer'd. Ill for thee, but in wishM hour 160 
Of my revenge, first sought for thou retum'st 
From flight, seditious angel, to receive 
Thy merited reward, the first assay 
Of this right hand provokM, since first that tongue 
Inspired with contradiction durst oppose 1% 

A third part of the gods, in synod met 
Their deities to assert, who, while they feel 
Vigour divine within them, can allow 
Omnipotence to none. But well thou com'st 
Before thy fellows, ambitious to win leo 

From me some plume, that thy success may show 
Destruction to the rest : this pause between, 
(Unanswered lest thou boast,) to let thee know. 
At first I thought that liberty and heaven 
To heavenly souls had been all one ; but now i65 
I see that most through sloth had rather serve, 
Minist'ring spirits, train'd up in feast and song : 
Such hast thou arm'd, the minstrelsy of heaven, 
Servility with freedom to contend, 
As both their deeds compared this day shall prove. 

To whom in brief thus Abdiel stern reply'd. in 
Apostate, still thou err'st, nor end will find 
Of erring, from the path of truth remote : 
Unjustly thou deprav'st it with the name 
Of servitude to serve whom God ordains, 175 

Or Nature ; God and Nature bid the same, 

Digitized by VjOOQIC 




When he who rules is worthiest, and excels 
Them whom he governs. This is servitude. 
To serve th' unwise, or him who hath rebelPd 
Against his worthier, as thine now serve thee, iso 
Thy self not free, but to thy self enthralPd ; 
Yet leudly dar'st our ministering upbraid. 
Reign thou in hell thy kingdom, let me serve 
In heav'n Goo ever bless'd, and his divine 
Behests obey, worthiest to be obeyM; 185 

Yet chains in hell, not realms expect: mean while 
From me returned, as erst thou saidst, from flight, 
This greeting on thy impious crest receive. 
So saying, a noble stroke he lifted high. 
Which hung not, but so swift with tempest fell 190 
On the proud crest of Satan, that no sight. 
Nor motion of swift thought, less could his shield 
Such ruin intercept : ten paces huge 
He back recoiPd ; the tenth on bended knee 
His massy spear upstay'd ; as if on earth i96 

Winds under ground or waters, forcing way 
Side-long, had push'd a mountain from his seat. 
Half sunk with all his pines. Amazement seiz'd 
The rebel thrones, but greater rage to see 
Thus foil'd their mightiest ; ours joy fill'd, and shout, 
Presage of victory, and fierce desire aoi 

W8 greeting] Virg. ^Eil ix. 635. 

* Bis capti Phryges luec Rutulis responsa remittunt' JNTetoton. 
1^ a noble] T. Beaumont's Psyche, c. vL st 90. 

' A noble stroke it was.' 
1V7 fnountain] Q. SmynuBos says, that Achilles fell dXlyntog dv^t 
fi&*gu, V. iii. 176. A, Dyce. 


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IKXJK VI. 197 

Of battle : whereat Michael bid sound 

The arch-angel trumpet ; through the vast of heaven 

It sounded, and the faithful armies rung 

Hosanna to the Highest : nor stood at gaze 905 

The adverse legions, nor less hideous join'd 

The horrid shock. Now storming fury rose^ 

And clamour, such as heard in heaven till now 

Was never ; arms on armour clashing bray'd 

Horrible discord, and the madding wheels 9io 

Of brazen chariots rag'd ; dire was the noise 

Of conflict ; over head the dismal hiss 

Of iSery darts in flaming voUies flew. 

And flying vaulted either host with fire. 

So under fiery cope together rush'd 215 

Both battles main, with ruinous assault 

And inextinguishable rage ; all heaven 

Resounded, and had earth been then, all earth 

Had to her centre shook. What wonder ? when 

Millions of fierce encount'ring angels fought aao 

On either side, the least of whom could wield 

These elements, and arm him with the force 

Of all their regions : how much more of power 

Army against army numberless to raise 

Dreadful combustion warring, and disturb, 995 

Though not destroy, their happy native seat ; 

Had not the eternal King omnipotent 

From his strong hold of heaven high ovemiPd 

And limited their might ; though number'd such, 

As each divided legion might have seem'd sao 

A numerous host ; in strength each armed hand 


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A legion ; led in fight, yet leader seem'd 

Each warrior single as in chief, expert 

When to advance, or stand, or turn the sway 

Of battle, open when, and when to close 235 

The ridges of grim war ; no thought of flight, 

None of retreat, no unbecoming deed 

That argu'd fear ; each on himself rely'd. 

As only in his arm the moment lay 

Of victory : deeds of eternal fame 240 

Were done, but infinite ; for wide was spread 

That war and various ; sometimes on firm ground 

A standing fight ; then soaring on main wing 

Tormented all the air ; all air seem'd then 

Conflicting fire. Long time in even scale 245 

The battle hung; till Satan, who that day 

Prodigious power had shewn, and met in arms 

No equal, ranging through the dire attack 

Of fighting seraphim confus'd, at length 

Saw where the sword of Michael smote, and felPd 

Squadrons at once : with huge two-handed sway 

Brandish'd aloft the horrid edge came dovm 

Wide wasting : such destruction to withstand 

He hasted, and oppos'd the rocky orb 

Of tenfold adamant, his ample shield, 255 

A vast circumference. At his approach 

M4 TonnenUd] Tempested. BenU. MS. 
Lod. Biyskett's M. Muse of Thestylis. 
* Who, lettuig* loose the winds, 
Tost^ and tormented the air.^ Mhffton, 
SM5 even scale] v. Emip. Suppl. v. 706. Tasso, G. Lib. czx. st 50. 
Spens. P. Qu. iv. iii. 37. Todd, 


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BOOK VI. 199 

The great arch-angel from his warlike toil 
Surceas'd ; and glad, as hoping here to end 
Intestine war in heaven, th' arch-foe subduM 
Or captive drag'd in chains, with hostile frown «o 
And visage all inflam'd, first thus began. 

Author of evil, unknown till thy revolt, 
Unnam'd in heaven, now plenteous, as thou seeM 
These acts of hateful strife, hateful to all. 
Though heaviest by just measure on thy self 96& 
And thy adherents : how hast thou disturb'd 
Heaven's blessed peace, and into nature brought 
Misery, uncreated till the crime 
Of thy rebellion ? how bast thou instill'd 
Thy malice into thousands, once upright S70 

And faithful, now prov'd false ? But think not here 
To trouble holy rest ; heaven casts thee out . 
From all her confines : heaven the seat of bliss 
£rooks not the works of violence and war. 
Hence then, and evil go with thee along, 275 

Thy offspring, to the place of evil, hell, 
Thou and thy wicked crew ; there mingle broils. 
Ere this avenging sword begin thy doom. 
Or some more sudden vengeance wing'd from God 
Precipitate thee with augmented pain. aso- 

So spake the prince of angels ; to whom thus 
The adversary. Nor think thou with wind 
Of aery threats to awe whom yet with deeds 
Thou canst not. Hast thou tum'd the least of these 
To flight, or if to fall, but that they rise 285 

I Jnvanquish'd ? easier to transact with me 


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That thou shouldst hope, imperious, and with threats 
To chase me hence ? err not that so shall end 
The strifip which thou calPst evil, but we style 
The strife of glory : which we mean to win, aw 
Or turn this heaven itself into the hell 
Thou fablest ; here however to dwell free, 
If not to reign : meanwhile thy utmost fcurce. 
And join him nam'd Almighty to thy aid, 
I fly not, but have sought thee far and nigh, 895 

They ended parle, and both addressed for fight 
Unspeakable ; for who, though with the tongue 
Of angels, can relate, or to what things 
Liken on earth conspicuous, that may lift 
Human imagination to such highth aoo 

Of godlike power ? for likest gods they seem'd. 
Stood they or mov'd, in stature, motion, arms, 
Fit to decide the empire of great heaven. 
Now wav'd their fiery swords, and in the air 
Made horrid circles ; two broad suns their shields 
BlazM opposite, while expectation stood ao6 

In horror ; from each hand with speed retired. 
Where erst was thickest fight, th' angelic throng. 
And left large field, unsafe within the wind 
Of such commotion; such as, to set forth 3io 

»6 ixddress^d] Spens. F. Qu. v. iL 12. 

( And Btraighte himselfe unto the fight addrest' Todd, 
900 txptdation] So Shakesp. Hen. V. 

« For now sits expectation in the air.' 
And Beaum. and Fletch. Boadicea, act iiL scene L 
< And expectation like the Roman eagle 
Took stand'^ J^ewton. Todd. 


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BOOK VI. 301 

Great things by small, if, nature's concord broke, 

Among the constellations war were sprung, 

Two planets, rushing from aspect malign 

Of fiercest opposition, in mid sky 

Should combat, and their jarring spheres confound. 3i& 

Together both, with next to Almighty arm, 

Uplifted imminent, one stroke they aim'd V 

That might determine, and not need repeat. 

As not of power, at once ; nor odds appeared 

In might or swift prevention ; but the sword aao 

Of Michael from the armoury of God 

Was giv'n him temper'd so, that neither keen 

Nor solid might resist that edge: it met 

The sword of Satan with steep force to smite 

Descending, and in half cut sheer ; nor stay'd, 395 

But with swift wheel reverse, deep entering, shared 

All his right side ; then Satan first knew pain, 

And writh'd him to and fro convolv'd ; so scure 

The griding sword with discontinuous wound 

Pass'd thro^ him: butth' ethereal substance clos'd. 

Not long divisible, and from the gash 39i 

A stream of nectarous humor issuing flow'd 

Sanguine, such as celestial spirits may bleed, 

And all his armour stain'd ere while so bright, 

317 immment] Virg. ^n. vi. 602. 

< Quos super atra silex, jam jam lapsnra, cadentique 
iMiiitme^ aBsimilis.' JVet«fon. 

3» gridiag] Spens. F. Q. iL viii. 36. 

* That through his thigh the mortal steel did gride,* Newton. 
3^ d{sc<mHniu>u8 toound] Compare an ezpreanon of Horace, 

< Oceano dU$ociaInlL* Ode iiL b. L Jt Dyce. 
VOL. I. 26 


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Forthwith on all sides to his aid was run 335 

By angels many and strong, who interposed 

Defence, while others bore him on their shields 

Back to his chariot , where it stood retired 

From off the files of war : there they him laid 

Gnashing for anguish, and despite, and shame, 340 

To find himself not matchless, and his pride 

Humbled by such rebuke, so far beneath 

His confidence to equal God in power. 

Yet soon he heal'd ; for spirits that live throughout 

Vital in every part, not as frail man 345 

In entrails, heart or head, liver or reins. 

Cannot but by annihilating die ; 

Nor in their liquid texture mortal wound 

Receive, no more than can the fluid air: 

All heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear, 350 

All intellect, all sense, and as they please 

They limb themselves, and colour, shape, or size 

Assume, as likes them best, condense or rare. 

Meanwhile in other parts like deeds deserv'd 
Memorial, where the might of Gabriel fought, 355 
And with fierce ensigns pierc'd the deep array 
Of Moloc furious king, who him defy'd. 
And at his chariot wheels to drag him bound 
Threatened, nor from the Holy One of heav'n 
Refrain'd his tongue blasphemous ; but anon, 360 
Down cloven to the waist, with shatter'd arms 
And uncouth pain fled bellowing. On each wing 

MB uncotOh] Spen. F. Qu. i. xL 20 

' That with the uncouth smart the monster loudly crydeJ* 



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Uriel and Raphael his vaunting foe, 
Though huge, and in a rock of diamond arm'd, 
Vanquish'd, Adramelec and Asmadai, 365 

Two potent thrones, that to be less than gods 
Disdain'd, but meaner thoughts learn'd in their 

Mangled with ghastly wounds 4hro' plate and mail. 
Nor stood unmindful Abdiel to annoy 
The atheist crew, but with redoubled blow »70 

Ariel, and Arioc, and the violence 
Of Ramiel scorch'd and blasted, overthrew. 
I might relate of thousands, and their names 
Eternize here on earth ; but those elect 
Angels, contented with their fame in heaven, 375 
Seek not the praise of men : the other sort, 
In might though wondrous and in acts of war. 
Nor of renown less eager, yet by doom 
CancePd from heav'n and sacred memory. 
Nameless in dark oblivion let them dwell. sbo 

For strength from truth divided and from just, 
Illaudable, naught merits but dispraise 
And ignominy ; yet to glory aspires 
Vainglorious, and through infamy seeks feme : 
Therefore eternal silence be their doom. 385 

And now, their mightiest quelPd, the battle swerv'd, 
With many an inroad gor'd ; deformed rout 
Enter'd and foul disorder : all the ground 
With shiver'd armour strown, and on a heap 

3W plaU] SpeiL'F. Qfu i. vL 4a 

< With their force they perst both fiaU and fnmL^ Todd. 


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Chariot and charioteer lay overturn'd, 390 

And fiery foaming steeds ; what stood, recoil'd 

O'erwearied, through the faint Satanic host 

Defensive scarce, gc with pale fear surprizM, 

Then first with fear surpriz'd and sense of pain 

Fled ignominious, to such evil brought . 395 

By sin of disobedienoe, till that hour 

Not liable to fear, or flight, or pain. 

Far otherwise th' inviolable saints 

In cubic phalanx firm advanced entire, 

Invulnerable, impenetrably arm'd : 400 

Such high advantages their innocence 

Gave them above their foes, not to have siim'd, 

Not to have disobeyed ; in fight they stood 

Unwearied, unobnoxious to be pain'd 

By wound, tho* from their place by violence inovM. 

Now night her course began, and, over heav'n 406 
Inducing darkness, gratefiil truce impos'd. 
And silence on the odious din of war : 
Under her cloudy covert both retir'd, 
Victor and vanquished. On the foughten field 4io 
Michael and his angels prevalent 
Encamping plac'd in guard their watches round, 

aw eubie] SquarecL Embodied, 779. BentL MS. 
407 huhicing] Hor. Sat L v. 9. 

* Jam nox inducert tenia 

Umhrasy et cqbIo difiUndere signa pftrabat' JV^tiAm. 

*^^ foughten] Sfcakesp. Hen. V. 

* As in this glorious and todlfoyghUn field.' 
and Fletcher's Laws of Candy, act iiL scene 1, ' aie tales of foughten 
fields.' Todd. 


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BOOK VI. 906 

Cherubic waving fires : on th' other part 

Satan with his rebellious disappeared. 

Far in the dark dislodg'd, and void of rest 4i5 

His potentates to council call'd bj night ; 

And in the midst thus undismay'd began. 

O now in danger try 'd, now known in arms 
Not to be overpowered, companions dear, 
Found worthy not of liberty alone, 420 

Too mean pretence! but, what we more affect, 
Honour, dominion, glory, and renown ; 
Who have sustained one day in doubtful fight, 
(And if one day why not eternal days ?) 
What heaven's Lord had powerfullest to send 425 
Against us from about his throne, and judg'd 
Sufficient to subdue us to his will, 
But proves not so : then fallible, it seems. 
Of future we may deem him, though till now 
Omniscient thought. True is, less firmly arm'd, 4:» 
Some disadvantage we endur'd and pain, 
Till now not known, but known, as soon contemned ; 
Since now we find this our empyreal form 
Incapable of mortal injury, 

Imperishable, and though pierc'd with wound 435 
Soon closing, and by native vigour heal'd. 
Of evil then so small, as easy think 
The remedy ; perhaps more valid arms, 
Weapons more violent, when next we meet. 
May serve to better us^ and worse oar foes, 440 

Or equal what between us made the odds, 
In nature none : if other bidden cause 


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Left them superior, while we can preserve 

Unhurt our minds and understanding sound. 

Due search and consultation will disclose. 445 

He sat ; and in th' assembly next upstood 
Nisroc, of principalities the prime ; 
As one he stood escap'd from cruel fight, 
Sore toil'd, his riven arms to havock hewn ; 
And cloudy in aspect thus answering spake. 450 

Deliverer from new lords, leader to free 
Enjoyment of our right as gods ; yet hard 
For gods, and too unequal work we find 
Against unequal arms to fight in pain, 
Against unpain'd, impassive ; from which evil 456 
Ruin must needs ensue, for what avails 
Valour or strength, though matchless, quell'd with 

Which all subdues, and makes remiss the hands 
Of mightiest ? sense of pleasure we may well 
Spare out of life perhaps, and not repine, 4eo 

But live content, which is the calmest life : 
But pain is perfect misery, the worst 
Of evils, and excessive overturns 
All patience. He who therefore can invent 
With what more forcible we may ofiend 465 

Our yet unwouuded enemies, or arm 
Our selves with like defence, to me deserves ">( 
No less than for deliverance what we owe. ^ 

Whereto with look composed Satan reply^. 
Not uninvented that, which thou aright 470 

^ to me] L e. in my opinion. 


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BOOK VI. 207 

Believ'st so main to our success, I bring : 

Which of us who beholds the bright surface 

Of this ethereous mould whereon we stand, 

This continent of spacious heav'n, adorn'd 

With plant, fruit, flower ambrosial, gems, and gold; 

Whose eye so superficially surveys • 476 

These things, as not to mind from whence they grow 

Deep under ground, materials dark and crude. 

Of spirituous and fiery spume, till touch'd 

With heaven's ray, and tempered they shoot forth 480 

So beauteous, opening to the ambient light ? 

These in their dark nativity the deep 

Shall yield us pregnant with infernal flame ; 

Which into hollow engines long and round 

Thick-ramm'd, at th' other bore with touch of fire 485 

Dilated and infuriate, shall send forth 

From far with thund'ring noise among our foes 

Such implements of mischief, as shall dash 

To pieces, and overwhelm whatever stands 

Adverse, that they shall fear we have disarmed 490 

The Thunderer of his only dreaded bolt. 

Nor long shall be our labour ; yet ere dawn. 

Effect shall end our wish. Mean while revive ; 

Abandon fear ; to strength and counsel join'd 

Think nothing hard, much less to be despaired. 495 

He ended, and his words their drooping cheer 
Enlighten'd, and their languishM hope reviv'd. 
Th' invention all admir'd, and each, how he 
To be th' inventor miss'd, so easy it seem'd 

478 dark] dank. BenU. MS. 


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Once found, which yet unfound most would have 
thought 500 

Impossible : yet haply of thy race 
In future days, if malice should abound, 
Some one intent on mischief, or inspired 
With dev'lish machination, might devise 
Like instrument, to plague the sons of men 605 

For sin, on war and mutual slaughter bent 
Forthwith from council to the work they flew; 
None arguing stood ; innumerable hands 
Were ready; in a moment up they tum'd 
Wide the celestial soil, and saw beneath 5io , 

Th' originals of nature in their crude 
Conception : sulphurous and nitrous foam 
They found, they mingled, and with subtle art 
Concocted and adusted they reduced 
To blackest grain, and into store convey'd- 616 

Part hidden veins digg'd up, (nor hath this earth 
Entrails unlike,) of mineral and stone, 
Whereof to found their engines and their balls 
Of missive ruin ; part incentive reed 
Provide, pernicious with one touch to fire. eso 

So all ere day-spring, under conscious night 
Secret, they finishM, and in order set. 
With silent circumspection unespy'd. 

Now when fair mom orient in heaven appeared, 
Up rose the victor angels, and to arms 696 

S90 pemicums] probably to be imderstood in the sexue of the Latin 
perniz, speedy. Newton. 


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BOOK VI. 809 

The matin trumpet sung : in anns they 8too4 

Of golden panoply, refulgent host, 

Soon banded ; others from the dawning hills 

Look'd round, and scouts each coast light-armed scour, 

Each quarter, to descry the distant foe, 590 

Where lodged, or whither fled, or if for fight, 

In motion or in halt : him soon they met 

Under spread ensigns moving nigh, in slow 

But firm battalion : back with speediest sail 

Zophiel, of cherubim the swiftest wing, 5» 

Came fljring, and in mid air aloud thus cry'd. 

Arm, warriors, arm for fight, the foe at hand. 
Whom fled we thought, will save us long pursuit 
This day; fear not his flight; so thick a cloud 
He comes, and settled in his face I see 640 

Sad resolution and secure : let each 
His adamantme coat gird well, and each 
Fit well his helm, gripe fast his orbed shield. 
Borne ev'n or high ; for this day will pour down. 
If I conjecture aught, no drizzling show'r, 645 

But rattling storm of arrows barb'd with fire. 

So wam'd he them, aware themselves, and soon 
In order, quit of all impediment ; 
Instant without disturb they took alarm. 
And onward move embattled ; when behold 660 

*• maHn] Tasso Gier. Lib. c. xL at 19. 

< Qnando a cantar la mattuHna iromba 
Comincia k V arme.' Tfofer. 

«« coat] Hor. Od. i. vi la 

' Martem tunica tectum adamanHna.* TodtL 
s^ aught] Fenton wishes to read 'right' 
VOL, I. 27 


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Not distant far with heavy pace the foe 

Approaching gross and huge ; in hollow cube 

Training his devilbh enginery, impal'd 

On every side with' shadowing squadrons deep, 

To hide the fraud. At interview both stood 555 

A while ; but suddenly at head appearM 

Satan ; and thus was heard commanding loud. 

Vanguard, to right and left the front unfold ; 
That all may see, who hate us, how we seek 
Peace and composure, and with open breast 560 

Stand ready to receive them, if they like 
Our overture, and turn not back perverse ; 
But that I doubt ; however witness heaven. 
Heaven witness thou anon, while we dischaige 
Freely our part : ye who appointed stand 666 

Do as you have in charge, and briefly touch 
What we propound, and loud that all may hear. 

So scoffing in ambiguous words, he scarce 
Had ended, when to right and left the front 
Divided, and to either flank retired : 670 

Which to our eyes discovered, new and strange, 
A triple mounted row of pillars, laid 
On wheels, (for like to pillars most they seem'd, 
Or hollow'd bodies made of oak or fir 
With branches lop'd, in wood or mountain felPd,) 576 
Brass, iron, stony mould, had not their mouths 
With hideous orifice gap'd on us wde, 
Portending hollow truce ; at each behind 

5« cube] Tabes, 48^ BenU. MS. 

A74 hoUow'd hodUi] Pallisadoes, 483. BenO. MS. 


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BOOK VI. 211 

A seraph stoody and in his band a reed 

Stood waving tip'd with fire ; while we suspense 680 

Collected stood within our thoughts amus'd ; 

Not long, for sudden all at once their reeds 

Put forth, and to a narrow vent apply'd 

With nicest touch. Immediate in a flame, 564 

But soon obscur'd with smoke, all heaven appearM, 

From those deep-throated engines belch'd, whose roar 

EmbowePd with outrageous noise the air, 

And all her entrails tore, disgorging foul 

Their devilish glut, chain'd thunderbolts and hail 

Of il"bn globes, which on the victor host 690 

LevePd with such impetuous fury smote, 

That whom they hit, none on their feet might stand, 

Though standing else as rocks ; but down they fell 

By thousands, angel on archangel rolPd, 

The sooner for their arms; unarm'd they might 585 

Have easily as spirits evaded swift 

By quick contraction or remove : but now 

Foul dissipation followed and forced rout: 

Nor serv'd it to relax their serried files. 

What should they do ? if on they rush'd, repulse eoo 

Repeated, and indecent overthrow 

Doubled, would render them yet more despis'd, 

s^ stood tDomng] This is certainly an error, < stood' occurs in the 
line before and after. Bentley would read * Held ;' but wishing to 
keep as close to the text as I can, I propose < shone.' Mr. Dyce 
proposes < shook.' 
8» bdcVd] See Beaumont's Psyche, c. xx. st 103. 

'But oft it gapM and belch'd, whence upwards broke 
Black volumes of contagious stink and smoke.' 

Digitized by VjOOQIC 


And to their foes a laughter : for in view 

Stood rank'd of seraphim another row. 

In posture to displode their second tire 605 

Of thunder : back defeated to return 

They worse abhorr'd. Satan beheld their plight, 

And to his mates thus in derision calPd* 

O friends, why come not on these victors proud ? 
Ere while they fierce were coming; and when we, 
To entertain them fair with open front 6ii 

And breast (what could we more ?) propounded terms 
Of composition, straight they chang'd their minds, 
Hew oflF, and into strange vagaries fell, • 

As they would dance : yet for a dance they seem'd 
Somewhat extravagant and wild ; perhaps 6i6 

For joy of oiTer'd peace : but I suppose, 
If our proposals oace again were heard, 
We should compel them to a quick result. 

To whom thus Belial in like gamesome mood, eao 
Leader, the terms we sent were terms of weight, 
Of hard contents, and full of force urg'd home ; 
Such as we might perceive amus'd them all. 
And stumbled many ; who receives them right, 
Had need from head to foot well understand ; 635 
Not understood, this gift they have besides, 
TTiey shew us when our foes walk not upright 

So they among themselves in pleasant vein 

<B5 understand\ This equivocation adopted from Shakespeare's 
Two G. of Verona, iL 5. 

< My staff uiuUrstanda me,' &c. Johnmm, 
w understood] under— stoop. BenU. MS. 


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BOOK VI. 213 

Stood scoffing, heighten'd in their thoughts beyond 

All doubt of victory ; Eternal Might 630 

To match with their inventions they presumed 

So easy, and of his thunder made a scorn, 

And all his host derided, while they stood 

A while in trouble ; but they stood not long ; 

Rage prompted them at length, and found them arms ^ 

Against such hellish mischief fit to oppose. 636 

Forthwith, (behold the excellence, the power 

Which God hath in his mighty angels plac'd !) 

Their arms away they threw, and to the hills, 

(For earth hath this variety from heaven 640 

Of pleasure situate in hill and dale,) 

Light as the light'ning glimpse they ran, they flew; 

From their foundations loosening to and fro 

They pluck'd the seated hills with all their load, 

Rocks, waters, woods, and by the shaggy tops 645 

Up lifting bore them in their hands. Amaze, 

Be sure, and terror seiz'd the rebel host, 

When coming towards them so dread they saw 

The bottom of the mountains upward turn'd ; 

Till on those cursed engines triple-row 650 

They saw them whelm'd, and all their confidence 

Under the weight of mountains buried deep; 

Themselves invaded next, and on their heads 

0^ UghPmng] See Nonm Dionysiaca, iL 293, xiy. 55, 
M4 pluck'd] Compare Statii Theb. iL 559. 

< Sazmn ingensi quod vix plena cervice gementes 

Vertere humo, muiisque yalent inferre juvenci, 

Rupibus avellit : dein toto sanguine nixua 

Sustinet,' &c. 


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Main promontories flung, which in the air 654 

Came shadowing, and opprest whole legions arm'd ; 

Their armour helpM their harm, crushM in and bruis'd 

Into their substance pent, which wrought them pain 

Implacable, and many a dolorous groan, 

Long struggling underneath, ere they could wind 

Out of such prison, though spirits of purest light, 66o 

Purest at first, now gross by sinning grown. 

The rest in imitation to like arms 

Betook them, and the neighbouring hills uptore ; 

So hills amid the air encountered hills, 

Hurl'd to and fro with jaculation dire, "» 665 

That under ground they fought in dismal shade ; 

Infernal noise ! war seem'd a civil game 

To this uproar ; horrid confusion heap'd 

Upon confusion rose : and now all heav'n 

Had gone to wrack, with ruin overspread, 670 

Had not th' Almighty Father, where he sits 

Shrin'd in his sanctuary of heaven secure. 

Consulting on the sum of things, foreseen 

This tumult, and permitted all, advisM : 

That his great purpose he might so fulfil, 675 

To honour his anointed Son aveng'd 

Upon his enemies, and to declare 

All power on him transferred : whence to his Son 

Th' assessor of his throne he thus began. 

Efiiilgence of my glory. Son belov'd, eso 

Son in whose face invisible is beheld 

<^* advised] A participle adverbial, and very elegant; it 
adTisedly, as Hor. Ode I. iii. 31. Richardaon, 


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BOOK VI. 215 

Visibly, what by Deity I am, 

And in whose hand what by decree 1 do, 

Second Omnipotence! two days are past. 

Two days, as we compute the days of heaven, 685 

Since Michael and his powers went forth to tame 

These disobedient ; sore hath been their fight, 

As likeliest was, when two such foes met arm'd ; 

For to themselves I left them, and thou know'st, 

£qual in their creation they were form'd, 690 

Save what sin hath impair'd, which yet hath wrought 

Insensibly, for I suspend their doom ; 

Whence in perpetual fight they needs must last 

Endless, and no solution will be found. 

War wearied hath performed what war can do, 695 

And to disorder'd rage let loose the reins, 

With mountains as with weapons arm'd, which makes 

Wild work in heaven and dangerous to the main. 

Two days are therefore past, the third is thine ; 

For thee I have ordain'd it, and thus far too 

Have sufier'd, that the glory may be thine 

Of ending this great war, since none but thou 

Can end it. Into thee such virtue and grace 

Immense I have transfus'd, that all may know 

In heaven and hell thy power above compare, ros 

And this perverse commotion govern'd thus, 

To manifest thee worthiest to be heir 

Of all things ; to be heir and to be king 

By sacred unction, thy deserved right. 

Go then, thou Mightiest, in thy Father's might, no 

Ascend my chariot, guide the rapid wheels 


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That shake heaven's basis^ bring forth all my war, 
My bow and thunder, my almighty arms 
Gird on, and sword upon thy puissant thigh ; 
Pursue these sons of darkness, drive them out 7i6 
From all heaven's bounds into the utter deep : 
There let them learn, as likes them, to despise 
God and Messiah his anointed king. 

He said, and on his Son with rays direct 
Shone full; he all his Father full exprest 790 

Inefiably into his face received ; 
And thus the jfilial Godhead answering spake. 

O Father, O Supreme of heavenly thrones. 
First, Highest, Holiest, Best, thou always seek'st 
To glorify thy Son, I always thee, tsk 

As is most just; this I my glory account. 
My exaltation, and my whole delight. 
That thou in me well pleas'd declar'st thy will 
FulfiU'd, which to fulfill is all my bliss. 
Sceptre, and power, thy giving, I assume, tso 

And gladlier shall resign, when in the end 
Thou shalt be all in all, and I in thee 
For ever, and in me all whom thou lov'st : 
But whom thou hat'st, I hate, and can put on 
Thy terrors, as I put thy mildness on, 736 

Image of thee in all things ; and shall soon, 
Arm'd with thy might, rid heaven of these rebelPd, 
To their prepared ill mansion driven down 
To chains of darkness and th' undying worm ; 
That from thy just obedience could revolt, 740 

Whom to obey is happiness entire. 


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BOOK VI. 217 

Then shall thy saints unmix'd, and from th' impure 

Far separate, circling thy holy mount 

Unfained hallelujahs to thee sing, 

Hymns of high praise, and I among them chief. 745 

So said, he, o'er his sceptre bowing, rose 
From the right hand of glory where he sat, 
And the third sacred mom began to shine, 
Dawning through heaven : forth rush'd with whirl- 
wind sound 
The chariot of paternal Deity, 750 

Flashing thick flames, wheel within wheel undravm, 
Itself instinct with spirit, but convoy'd 
By four cherubic shapes ; four faces each 
Had wondrous, as with stars their bodies all 
And wings were set with eyes, with eyes the wheels 
Of beril, and careering fires between ; 756 

Over their heads a crystal firmament. 
Whereon a saphire throne, inlaid with pure 
Amber, and colours of the sho^w'ry arch. 
He, in celestial panoply all arm'd Tto 

Of radiant Urim work divinely wrought, 
Ascended ; at his right hand Victory 
Sate eagle-wing'd; beside him hung his bow 
And quiver with three-bolted thunder stor'd, 
And from about him fierce efiiision roIPd reb 

Of smoke, and bickering flame, and sparkles dire. 

W8 fFhioreon] Penton reads « Where, on.' Todd. 
^90 Mkou^ry €ar(h] A. Rftmsei, P. Sacr. ed. Lauder, 1. 5. 
' CcbIo sicut Thaumantias udo^ 
Cum picturatum dat imUe coloribua arcum.* 
VOL. I. ^ 


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Attended with ten thousand thousand samts 

He onward came; far off his coming shone. 

And twenty thousand, (I their number heard,) 

Chariots of God, half on each hand were seen, tto 

He on the wings of cherub rode sublime, 

On the crystalline sky, in saphire thron'd. 

Illustrious far and wide, but by his own 

First seen; them unexpected joy surprised. 

When the great ensign of Messiah blaz'd, tts 

Aloft by angels borne, his sign in heav'n : 

Under whose conduct Michael soon reduc'd 

His army, circumfus'd on either wing. 

Under their head embodied all in one. 

Before him Power Divine his way prepared ; tso 

At his command the uprooted hills retir'd 

Each to his place; they heard his voice and went 

Obsequious ; Heaven his wonted face renewed. 

And with fresh flow'rets hill and valley smil'd. 

This saw his hapless foes, but stood obdur'd, tos 
And to rebellious fight rallied their powers 
Insensate, hope conceiving from despair : 
In heavenly spirits could such perverseness dwell ? 
But to convince the proud what signs avail. 
Or wonders move the obdurate to relent ? 790 

They harden'd more by what might most reclaim, 
Grieving to see his glory, at the sight 

W hope] Virg. Ma. iL 354. 

' Una mIub victis, nuUaxn sperare flalutem.' 
and Q. Curt L. v. c. iv. 

* 8epe dMperatio spei canaa est' MwUm, 


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BOOK VI. 219 

Took envy, and, aspiring to his highth, 
Stood reimbattle'd fierce, by force or fraud 
Weening to prosper, and at length prevail tw 

Against God and Messiah, or to fall 
In universal ruin last ; and now 
To final battle drew, disdaining flight, 
Or faint retreat ; when the great Son of God 
To all his host on either hand thus spake. soo 

Stand still in bright array, ye saints; here stand, 
Ye angels armM, this day from battle rest ; 
Faithful hath been your virarfare, and of God 
Accepted, fearless in his righteous cause. 
And as ye have received, so have ye done 806 

Invincibly : but of this cursed crew 
The punishment to other hand belongs ; 
Vengeance is bis, or whose he sole appoints : 
Number to this day's work is not ordain'd. 
Nor multitude ; stand only and behold sio 

God's indignation on these godless pour'd 
By me ; not you, but me they have despis'd. 
Yet envied : against me is all their rage. 
Because the Father, t' whom in heaven supreme 
Kingdom, and power, and glory appertains, 815 

Hath honour'd me according to his will. 
Therefore to me their doom he hath assign'd; 
That they may have their wish, to try with me 
In battle which the stronger proves, they all. 
Or I alone against them ; since by strength 820 

797 last] Tickell and Bentley read ' lost' 


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They measure all, of other excellence 
Not emulous, nor care who them excels ; 
Nor other strife with them do I vouchsafe. 

So spake the Son, and into terror chang'd 
His countenance, too severe to be beheld 825 

And full of wrath bent on his enemies. 
At once the Four spread out their starry wings 
With dreadful shade contiguous, and the orbs 
Of his fierce chariot rolPd, as with the sound 
Of torrent floods, or of a numerous host. sao 

He on his impious foes right onward drove. 
Gloomy as night ; under his burning wheels 
The steadfast empyrean shook throughout. 
All but the throne itself of God. Full soon 
Among them he arriv'd, in his right hand 835 

Grasping ten thousand thunders, which he sent 
Before him, such as in their souls infix'd 
Plagues : they astonish'd all resistance lost, 
All courage; down their idle weapons dropp'd ; 
O'er shields, and helms, and helmed heads he rode 
Of thrones and mighty seraphim prostrate, 84i 

That wish'd the mountains now might be again 
Thrown on them as a shelter from his ire. 
Nor less on either side tempestuous fell 
His arrows, from the fourfold visag'd Four, 845 

Distinct with eyes, and from the living wheels 

8^ pngtraU] Fairfax and SpeDser accent this word on the last 
■yllable. v. Tasso, c. L 83 ; 

< And lay his powers prostr&te.' F. Qu. xiL 39. 

< Before fair Britomart she feU prostrate.' AViDfon. 


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BOOK VI. 321 

Distinct alike with multitude of ejes ; 

One spirit in them rul'd, and every eye 

Glar'd light'ning, and shot forth pernicious fire 

Among th' accurst, that wither'd all their strength, 

And of their wonted vigour left them drain'd, 851 

Exhausted, spiritless, afflicted, fall'n. 

Yet half his strength he put not forth, but check'd 

His thunder in mid voUy, for he meant 

Not to destroy, but root them out of heaven. 865 

The overthrown he rais'd, and as a herd 

Of goats or timorous flock together throng'd 

Drove them before him thunder-struck, pursu'd 

With terrors and with fiiries to the bounds 

And crystal wall of heaven; which op'ning wide aeo 

Roll'd inward, and a spacious gap disclosed 

Into the wasteful deep ; the monstrous sight 

Struck them with horror backward ; but far worse 

Urg'd them behind ; headlong themselves they threw 

Down from the verge of heaven; eternal wrath 865 

Burn'd after them to the bottomless pit. 

Hell heard th' unsufferable noise, hell saw 

Heaven ruining from heaven, and would have fled 

658 thunder] See Beaumont's Psyche, c. xx. st 102. 
' Down plung'd this mixed rout which almost split 
The greedy throat of the sulphureous deep, 
Loud was the noise of this great fall, hut yet 
Far louder was their crie, who down the steep 
Eternal precipice still tumhled, and 
No hottom saw, to hid their ruine stand.' 
808 ruining] Falling down with ruin, from the Italian ruinandtk 
T. Tasso's Gier. Lih. ix. 39. 

^ Gli alberi iutonio rmnando attem.' Thifer* 


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Affrighted ; but strict fate had cast too deep 
Her dark foundations, and too fast had bound. 870 
Nine days they fell ; confounded Chaos roar'd, 
And felt tenfold confusion in their fall 
Through his wild anarchy ; so huge a rout 
Incumber'd him with ruin : hell at last 
Yawning received them whole, and on them closM ; 
Hell their fit habitation, fraught with fire 876 

Unquenchable, the house of woe and pain. 
Disburdened heav'n rejoicM, and soon repaired 
Her mural breach, returning whence it rolPd. 

Sole victor from th' expulsion of his foes 880 

Messiah his triumphal chariot turn'd: 
To meet him all his saints, who silent stood 
Eye-witnesses of his almighty acts. 
With jubilee advanced ; and as they went, 
Shaded with branching palm, each order bright 886 
Sung triumph, and him sung victorious King, 
Son, Heir, and Lord, to him dominion giv'n. 
Worthiest to reign : he celebrated rode 
Triumphant through mid heaven, into the courts 
And temple of his mighty Father throned 890 

On high ; who into glory him received. 
Where now he sits at the right hand of bliss. 

Thus measuring things in heaven by things on earth, 
At thy request, and that thou may'st beware 
By what is past, to thee I have reveaPd 895 

What might have else to human race been hid ; 

8^ house] Fairfax's Tafiao, iz. st 59. 
* Fit house for them, the house of grief and pain,^ NkwUm* 


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BOOK VI. 223 

The discord wbich befell, and war in heaven 

Among th' angelic powers^ and the deep fall 

Of those too high aspiring, who rebell'd 

With Satan; he who envies now thj state, 900 

Who now is plotting how he may seduce 

Thee also from obedience, that with him 

Bereav'd of happiness thou may'st partake 

His punishment, eternal misery, 

Whioh would be all his solace and revenge, 90S 

As a despite done against the Most High, 

Thee once to gain companion of his woe. 

But listen not to his temptations, warn 

Thy weaker ; let it profit thee to have heaid 

By terrible example the reward 910 

Of disobedience ; firm they might have stood, 

Yet fell : remember, and fear to transgress. 

wo ke] The constractioii, Bentley obseirefl, requires * YaoL* 


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Raphael, at the request of Adam, relates how, and wherefore, this 
world was first created ; that God, after the expelling of Satan and 
his angels out of heaven, declared his pleasure to create another 
world, and other creatures to dwell therein ; sends his Son with 
glory and attendance of angels to perform the work of creation in 
six days : the angels celebrate with hymns the performance thereof, 
and his reascension into heaven. 

Descend from heav'n, Urania, by that name 
If rightly thou art call'd, whose voice divine 
Following, above th' Olympian hill I soar, 
Above the flight of Pegasean wing. 
The meaning, not the name, I call : for thou 5 

Nor of the Muses nine, nor on the top 
Of old Olympus dwelPst; but heavenly bom, 
Before the hills appear'd, or fountain flow'd. 
Thou with eternal Wisdom didst converse, 
Wisdom thy sister, and with her didst play lo 

In presence of th' almighty Father, pleas'd 

^ T MOlyn^us]'coW BerUL MS. 1. 510. 1. 4^8. 2. S9S. 

7 old] Some would read ' cold,' as in book L 516 ; but it is called 
< dd,* as being <fam'd of old,' see book L 420, iL 593. J^twUm. 


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BOOK vn. 9S6 

With thy celestial song. Up led bj thee 

Into the heaven of heaven's I have presum'd, 

An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air, 

Thy temp'ring ; yvith like safety guided down 16 

Return me to my native element : 

Lest from this flying steed unrein'd, as once 

Bellerophon, though from a lower clime, 

Dismounted, on the Aleian field I fall. 

Erroneous there to wander and forlorn. 90 

Half yet remains unsung, but narrower bound. 

Within the visible diurnal sphere ; ' 

Standing on earth, not rapt above the pole, / 

More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchang'd 

To hoarse or mute, though falPn on evil days, 95 

On evil days though ialPn and evil tongues, 

In darkness, and with dangers compast round, 

And solitude ; yet not alone, while thou 

Visit'st my slumbers nightly, or viiien mom 

Purples the east. Still govern thou my song, ao 

Urania, and fit audience find, though few. 

But drive far off* the barbarous dissonance 

Of Bacchus and his revellers, the race 

Of that wild rout that tore the Thradaa bard 

In Rhodope, where woods and rocks had ears as 

To rapture, till the savage clamour drown'd 

Both harp and voice ; nor could the muse defend 

^ eon] Hot. Od. L ziL v.. 11. 

' jSurUas fidibus canoru 
Dueere qiureu$.^ Todd, < 

VOL. I. 29 


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Her son. So fail not thou, who thee implores : 

For thou art heavenly, she an empty dream. 

Say, goddess, what ensu'd when Raphael, 40 

The affable arch-angel, had forewarned 

Adam by dire example to beware 

Apostasy, by what befell in heaven 

To those apostates, lest the like befall 

In Paradise to Adam or his race, 45 

Charg'd not to touch the interdicted tree, 

If they transgress, and slight that sole command. 

So easily obey'd, amid the choice 

Of all tastes else to please their appetite, 

Though veand'ring. He with his consorted Eve 50 

The story heard attentive, and was filPd 

With admiration and deep muse, to hear 

Of things so high and strange, things to their thought 

So unimaginable as hate in heaven. 

And war so near the peace of God in bliss 55 

With such confusion: but the evil soon 

Driv'n back redounded as a flood x)n those 

From whom it sprung, impossible to mix 

With blessedness. Whence Adam soon repealed 

The doubts that in his heart arose : and now 60 

Led on, yet sinless, with desire to know 

What nearer might concern him, how this world 

Of heaven and earth conspicuous first began. 

When, and whereof created, for what cause. 

What vnthin Eden or vnthout was done 65 

Before his memory, as one whose drouth 


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BOOK VII. 227 

Yet scarce allajM still eyes the current stream, 
Whose liquid muimur heard new thirst excites, 
Proceeded thus to ask his heavenly guest. 

Great things, and full of wonder in our ears, 70 
Far differing from this world, thou hast reveal'd, 
Divine interpreter, by favour sent 
Down from the empyrean to forewarn 
Us timely of what might else have been our loss. 
Unknown, which human knowledge could not reach : 
For which to the infinitely Good we owe 76 

Immortal thanks, and his admonishment 
Receive with solemn purpose to observe 
Immutably his sovereign will, the end 
Of what we are. But sance thou hast vouchsaPd so 
Gentiy for our instruction to impart 
Things above earthly thought, which yet concem'd 
Our knowing, as to highest wisdom seem'd. 
Deign to descend now lower, and relate 
What may no less perhaps avail us known ; 86 

How first began this heaven which we behold 
Distant so high, with moving fires adom'd 
[nnumerable, and this which yields or fills 
All space, the ambient air wide interfus'd 

^ interpreter] So Mercury is called in VirgiL ' Interpres Divdm.' 
JEjl iv. 378. JVhfftoTi, 

^ relate] So in the AdununEzsulof Grotius,,p. 16. Adam sayi 
to the asigel : 

' Age, si vacabit, (scire nam perfectius 
Que facta fueiint, ante me factum, potes) 
Naira petenii, quomodb, quoque ordine 
Tarn magna numeris machina impleta est suis.' 


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Embracing round this florid earth; what cause so 

Mov'd the Creator in his holy rest 

Through all eternity so late to build 

In chaos, and the work begun, how soon 

Absolv'd, if unforbid thou may'st unfold 

What we not to explore the secrets ask 96 

Of his eternal empire, but the more 

To magnify his works, the more we know. 

And the great light of day yet wants to run 

Much of his race though steep suspense in heaven 

Held by thy voice, thy potent voice, he hears, loo 

And longer will delay to hear thee tell 

His generation, and the rising burth 

Of Nature from the unapparent deep : 

Or if the star of ev'ning and the moon 

Haste to thy audience. Night with her will bring 105 

Silence, and Sleep listening to thee vnll watch ; 

Or we can bid his absence, till thy song 

£nd, and dismiss thee ere the morning shine. 

Thus Adam his illustrious guest besought ; 
And thus the godlike angel answer'd mild. no 

This also thy request with caution ask'd 
Obtain : though to recount almighty works 
What words or tongue of seraph can suffice. 
Or heart of man suffice to comprehend ? 

^Jlorid] Globonfl. BtidLMS, 

W Aeoven] In the fiist edition there was no comma after 'heaven ;* 
Peaice altered the punctuation. 

103 unappartid'] AoqaTog, BerUL MS. 

^^ End] for < ending dismiss thee;' so iL 917, 'Stood, and 
look'd' for 'standing look'd.' Todd. 


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BOOK VII. 889 

Yet what thou canst attain. Which best may serve U5 

To glorify the Maker, and infer 

Thee also happier, shall not be withheld 

Thy hearing, such commission from above 

I have receiv'd, to answer thy desire 

Of knowledge within bounds ; beyond abstain iso 

To ask, nor let thine own inventions hope 

Things not reveal'd, which th' invisible King, 

Only omniscient, hath supprest in night. 

To none communicable in earth or heaven : 

Enough is left besides to search and know. \» 

But knowledge is as food, and needs no less 

Her temperance over appetite, to know 

In measure what the mind may well contain; 

Oppresses else with surfeit, and soon turns 

Wisdom to folly, as nourishment to wind. lis 

Know then, that after Lucifer from heaven, 
(So call him, brighter once amidst the host 
Of angels, than that star the stars among,) 
Fell with his iSaming legions through the deep 
Into his place, and the great Son retum'd las 

Victorious with his saints, th' omnipotent 

W nighJ^ Hot. Od. iiL 29. 39. 

* Pnidens fiitari temporiB exitam 
CaliginoBa nocte premit Deus.' Th^. 
1^ surfeU] See Davenant'B Gondibert, c. viii. st 98. 
' For though books serve as diet of the mind. 
If knowledge early got, self-value breeds, 
By fidse digestion it is tom'd to wind, 
And what should nourish on the eater feeds.' 


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Eternal Father from his throoe beheld 
Their multitude, and to his Son thus spake. 

At least our envious foe hath faiPd, who thought 
All like himself rebellious, by whose aid 140 

This inaccessible high strength, the seat 
Of deity supreme, us dispossest, 
He trusted to have seiz'd, and into fraud 
Drew many, whom their place knows here no more : 
Yet far the greater part have kept, 1 see, i46 

Their station; heaven yet populous retains 
Number sufficient to possess her realms 
Though wide, and this high temple to frequent 
With ministeries due and solemn rites- 
But lest his heart exalt him in the harm iso 

Already done, to have dispeopled heaven, 
My damage fondly deem'd, I can repair 
That detriment, if such it be to lose 
Self-lost, and in a moment will create 
Another world, out of one man a race i56 

Of men innumerable, there to dwell, 
Not here, till by degrees of merit rais'd. 
They open to themselves at length the way 
Up hither, under long obedience try'd. 
And earth be chang'd to heaven, and heaven to earth, 
One kingdom, joy and union without end. . i6i 

Meanwhile inhabit lax, ye powers of heaven, 
And tbou my Word, begotten Son, by thee 

^ least] Mr. Thyer Baith, <That I do not like taking libeitieB 
with the text, or I should read " at last" ' 


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This I perform^ speak thou, and be it done. 

My overshadowing spirit and might with thee 165 

I send along ; ride forth, and bid the deep 

Within appointed bounds be heaven and earth ; 

Boundless the deep, because I Am who fill 

Infinitude, nor vacuous the space. 

Though I uncircumscrib'd myself retire, no 

And put not forth my goodness, which is free 

To act, or not, necessity and chance 

Approach not me, and what I will is fate. 

So spake th' Almighty, and to what he spake 
His Word, the Filial Godhead, gave effect. its 

Immediate are the acts of God, more swift 
Than time or motion, but to human ears 
Cannot without process of speech be told. 
So told as earthly notion can receive. 
Great triumph and rejoicing was in heaven, . iso 
When such was heard declarM the Almighty's will ; 
Glory they sung to the Most High, good will 
To future men, and in their dwellings peace ; 
Glory to him, whose just avenging ire 
Had driven out th' ungodly from his sight 185 

And th' habitations of the just ; to him 
Glory and praise, whose wisdom had ordain'd 
Good out of evil to create, in stead 

173 faie] Todd has quoted Plato's TinuBUs, ed. Serrani, vol. ilL p^ 
41. Bendey cites Lucan, v. ver. 91. Jortin, Statii Theb. i. 212. 
Thyer, Claud, de R. Pros. iL 906. and Tasso Gier. Lib. iv. 17. 
•* Sia destin trio; di' io voglio.' 

m iht] Bentley reads <to God most high,' which Newton ap< 


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Of spirits malign a better race to bring 

Into their vacant robm» and thence diffuse 190 

His good to worlds and ages infinite. 

So sang the Hierarchies. Mean while the Son 
On his great expedition now appear'd. 
Girt with omnipotence, with radiance crown'd 
Of Majesty divine, sapience and love 196 

Immense, and aU his Father in him shone. 
About his chariot numberless were pour'd 
Cherub and seraph, potentates and thrones, 
And virtues, winged spirits, and chariots wing'd, 
From the armoury of God, where stand of old sno 
Myriads, between two brazen mountains lodg'd 
Against a solemn day, harness'd at hand. 
Celestial equipage ; and now came forth 
Spontaneous, for within them spirit liv'd, 
Attendant on their Lord : heaven open'd wide sos 
Her ever during gates, harmonious sound 
On golden hinges moving, to let forth 
The King of glory, in his powerful Word 
And Spirit coming to create new worlds. 
On heavenly ground they stood, and from the shore 
They view'd the vast immeasurable abyss sii 

Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild, 
Up from the bottom tum'd by furious winds 
And surging waves, as mountains, to assault 
Heaven's highth, and with the centre mix the pole. 

^4 And] Newton would read ' In surging wayes ;' it seems better, 
says Todd, as the Doctor obHrve$^to say of the sea, «in surging 
waves,' than *by.' 


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BOOK VII. 888 

Silence, je troubled waves, and, thou deep, peace. 
Said then th' omnific Word, your discord end. 217 

Nor staid ; but, on the v^^ings of cherubim 
Uplifted, in Paternal Glory rode 
Far into Chaos and the world unborn ; S90 

For Chaos heard his voice. Him all his train 
FoUow'd in bright procession to behold 
Creation, and the wonders of his might. 
Then stay'd the fervid wheels, and in his hand 
He took the golden compasses, prepared S25 

In God's eternal store, to circumscribe 
This universe, and all created things. 
One foot he centre'd, and the other tumM 
Round through the vast profundity obscure. 
And said. Thus far extend, thus far thy bounds, ssa 
This be thy just circumference, O world. 

Thus God the heaven created, thus the earth. 
Matter unform'd and void. Darkness profound 
Covered th' abyss ; but on the watery calm 
His brooding wings the Spirit of God outspread, 386 
And vital virtue infus'd and vital warmth 
Throughout the fluid mass, but downward purg'd 
The black, tartareous, cold, infernal, dregs. 
Adverse to life : then founded, then conglob'd 
Like things to like ; the rest to several place S4o 

»*/emd] Hor. Od. i. L 4. 

' Metaque/emdiff 
Evitata rotis.' Hume, 

109 founded] Rounded. BenU. MS. 
VOL. I. 30 


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Disparted, and between spun out the air, 
And earth self-balanc'd on her centre hung. 

Let there be light, said God, and forthwith light 
Ethereal, first of things, quintessence pure. 
Sprung from the deep, and from her native east ais 
To journey through the aery gloom began, 
Spher'd in a radiant cloud, for yet the sun 
Was not ; she in a cloudy tabernacle 
Sojourn'd the while. God saw the light was good ; 
And light from darkness by the hemisphere 250 

Divided : light the Day, alid darkness Night, 
He nam'd. Thus was the first day ev'n and mom : 
Nor past uncelebrated, nor unsung 
By the celestial choirs, when orient light 
Exhaling first from darkness they beheld, 856 

Birth-day of heav'n and earth ; with joy and shout 
The hollow universal orb they fill'd. 
And touch'd their golden harps, and hymning prais'd 
God and his works, creator him they sung. 
Both when first evening was, and when first mom. 

Again God said. Let there be firmament 
Amid the waters, and let it divide 
The waters firom the waters : and God made 
The firmament, expanse of liquid, pure. 
Transparent, elemental air, difius'd aes 

In circuit to the uttermost convex 
Of this great round ; partition firm and sure, 
The waters underneath firom those above 
Dividing : for as earth, so he the world 
Built on circumfluous waters calm, in wide S70 


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fiOOK VU. 335 

Crystallin ocean, and the loud misrule 
Of Chaos far removM, lest fierce extremes 
Contiguous might distemper the whole frame : 
And heav'n he nam'd the firmament : so ev'n 
And morning chorus sung the second day, 275 

The earth was form'd, but, in the womb as yet 
Of waters embryon immature involved, 
Appeared not : over all the face of earth 
Main ocean flowed, not idle, but with warm 
Prolific humour soft'ning all her globe 280 

Fermented the great mother to conceive, 
Satiate with genial moisture, when God said, 
Be gathered now, ye waters under heaven, 
Into one place, and let dry land appear. 
Immediately the mountains huge appear 285 

Emergent, and their broad bare backs upheave 
Into the clouds, their tops ascend the sky. 
So high as heav'd the tumid hills, so low 
Down sunk a hollow bottom broad and deep. 
Capacious bed of waters : thither they 290 

Hasted with glad precipitance, uprolPd 
As drops on dust conglobing from the dry : 
Part rise in crystal wall, or ridge direct. 
For haste ; such flight the great command imprest 
On the swift floods : as armies at the call 295 

Of trumpet, (for of armies thou hast heard,) 
Troop to their standard, so the wat'ry throng. 
Wave rolling after wave, where way they found ; 
If steep, with torrent rapture, if through plain. 
Soft-ebbing; nor withstood them rock or hill, 900 
But they, or under ground, or circuit wide 


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With serpent error wand'ring, found their way, 

And on the washy oose deep channels wore, 

Easy, ere God had bid the ground be dry, 

All but within those banks, where rivers now 305 

Stream, and perpetual draw their humid train. 

The dry land Earth, and the great receptacle 

Of congregated waters he cali'd Seas ; 

And saw that it was good, and said. Let th' earth 

Put forth the verdsmt grass, herb yielding seed, 3io 

And fruit tree yielding fruit after her kind ; 

Whose seed is in herself upon the earth. 

He scarce had said, when the bare earth, till then 

Desert and bare, unsightly, unadom'd. 

Brought forth the tender grass, whose verdure clad 

Her universal face with pleasant green ; 316 

Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flower'd 

Opening their various colours, and made gay 

Her bosom smelling sweet : and these scarce blown, 

Forth flourish'd thick the clustering vine, forth crept 

The swelling gourd, up stood the corny reed ssi 

SOB terpeni] See Strabo, ix. 424. Ap. Rhod. iv. 1541. Davies ad 
Cic de NaL Deor. iL 42. Solin. Polyhist cxxiv. 4. z. Virg. Georg. 
L 244. Seneca Thyestes, 869. Peeled Works by Dyce, iL 11, ed. 
1899 : and Sandys' Psalms, p. 170. 

< With snake-like glide between the bordering hills.' 
«» wmtPring] Winding. iL 56. BenU. MS. 
» noeBtiig] See Le Api de Ruscellai, v. 460. 
< £ dir ci come col gonfiato ventre 
L'idropica cucorbita s'ingrossL' 
and Milton's Prose Works, vi. p. 388. < The tomid pvmpkin.' 
sn corny] Viig. JSn. iii. 22. 

< Quo cornea summo 
Virgulta, et densis hastilibus horrida myrtus.' JHume. 


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BOOK vn. 887 


Embattle'd in her field ; and th' humble shrab. 
And bush with frizzled hair implicit : last 
Rose, as in dance, the stately trees, and spread 
Their branches hung with copious fruit, or gemm'd 
Their blossoms: with high woods the hills were 

crown'd ; 396 

With tufts the valleys and each fountain side; 
With txmlers long the riyers : that earth now 
Seem'd like to heav'n, a seat where gods might 

Or wander with delight, and love to haunt 
Her sacred shades : though God had yet not rain'd 
Upon the earth, and man to till the ground 
None was ; but from the earth a dewy mist 
Went up and water'd all the ground, and each 
Plant of the field ; which, ere it was in the earth, 
God made, and every herb, before it grew sae 

On the green stem : God saw that it was good : 
So ev'n and mom recorded the third day. 

Again th' Almighty spake : Let there be lights 
High in th' expanse of heaven to divide 340 

The day from night; and let them be for signs, 
For seasons, and for days, and circling years ; 
And let them be for lights, as I ordain 
Their office in the firmament of heaven 
To give light on the earth ; and it was so. 345 

And God made two great lights, great for their use 
To man, the greater to have rule by day. 
The less by night, altern : and made the stars. 
And set them in the firmament of heaven, 
To illuminate the earth, and rule the day S60 


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In their vicissitude, and rule the night, 

And light from jdarkness to divide. God saw, 

Surveying his great work, that it was good : 

For of celestial bodies first the sun, 

A mighty sphere, he fram'd, unlightsome first, 355 

Though of ethereal mould : then form'd the moon 

Globose, and every magnitude of stars, 

And sow'd with stars the heaven thick as a field. 

Of light by far the greater part he took. 

Transplanted from her cloudy shrine, and plac'd 960 

In the sun's orb, made porous to receive 

And drink the liquid light, firm to retain 

Her gathered beams, great palace now of light 

Hither, as to their fountain, other stars 

Repairing, in their golden urns draw light, a66 

And hence the morning planet gilds her horns : 

By tincture or reflection they augment 

Their small peculiar, though from human sight 

So far remote, with diminution seen. 

First in his east the glorious lamp was seen, sro 

Regent of day, and all th' horizon round 

Invested with bright rays, jocond to run 

His longitude through heaven's high road : the gray 

358 sau^d] Spens. Hymn to Heav. Beauty, v. 53. 

* All aaw^d with glistering starsy more thick than grass? Todd. 
9<B liquid] Lncret lib. v. 283. 

' Largos item UquuH fons lumimSi ethereus sol.' MwUm. 

^^ her] In the first ed. <his horns,' which Fenton and Bentley 

5W gray] See Carew's Poems, p. 60, 12mo. 
< The yellow planets, and the gray 
Dawn shall attend thee on thy way.' Todd. 


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Dawn and the Pleiades before him danc'd. 
Shedding sweet influence. Less bright the moon, 
But opposite in level'd west was set 376 

His mirror, with full face borrowing her light 
From him, for other light she needed none 
In that aspect ; and still that distance keeps 
Till night, then in the east her turn she shines, sso 
ReYolv'd on heaven's great axle, and her reign 
With thousand lesser lights dividual holds. 
With thousand thousand stars, that then appeared 
Spangling the hemisphere : then first adorn'd 
With their bright luminaries, that set and rose, 386 
Glad evening and glad morn crown'd the fourth day. 

And God said. Let the waters generate 
Reptile with spawn abundant, living soul: 
And let fowl fly above the earth, with wings 
Display'd on the open firmament of heaven. 390 

And God created the great whales, and each 
Soul living, each that crept, which plenteously 
The waters generated by their kinds, 

374 Pleiadu] PhosphoTOfl. BenU. MS. 

375 suftet] P. Fletxsher's Locusts, p. 40. 

' There every stam sheds his stoed ti^fiuenceJ Todd. 
3^ opposite] y. AdamusExsulof Grotiiis, p. 20. 

< Sed Luna, noctis dominay firatemmn sibi 
Furata Imneo, splendet alieni &ce : 
Cumque alma Phoebe solis opposita yim 
Regione yadit, lumen adyeTsum bibit' . 
983 thousand stars] 

^ Kntilantia corpora mille, 
Mffle oculos, mille igniculos intezit olympo.' 

A. Rams. Poem. Sacr. L p. 6. 


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And every faiid of wing after his kind ; 
And saw that it was good, and bless'd them, saying, 
Be fruitful, multiply, and in the seas, 396 

And lakes, and running streams, the waters fill ; 
And let the fowl be multiply'd on the earth. 
Forthwith the sounds and seas, each creek and bay, 
With fry innumerable swarm, and shoals 400 

Of fish, that with their fins and shining scales 
Glide under the green wave, in sculls that oft 
Bank the mid sea : part single, or with mate. 
Graze the sea-weed their pasture, and through groves 
Of coral stray, or sporting with quick glance 406 
Show to the sun their wav'd coats dropt with gold; 
Or in their pearly shells at ease attend 
Moist nutriment, or under rocks their food 
In jointed armour watch : on smooth the seal 
And bended dolphins play ; part huge of bulk, 4io 
Wallowing unwieldy, enormous in their gait, 
Tempest the ooean : there Leviathan, 

^^ 9cuUs] See Hagthorpe's Divine Meditations, p. 39. 
* The scfdlsy oh ! Lord, of all the lakes and fountains, 
The herdes are thine upon ten thousand mountains.' 
^ shdU] A. Rams. Poem. Sacr. i. p. 8. 

< Pars quoque tarda, hsrens scopulis, sub cortice concha, 
Pinnarumque, pedumque ezpeis, depascit arenam.' 
<w armour watch] A. Ramssi Poem. Sacr. L 7. 

* non remige pinnH 

Sulcat aquas, munit& latens sub tegmine te8t&«' 
^^^ bended] See Huet's Note to Manilius, y. 418. he gives near 
ten examples from the Latin Poets of this expression. < Perpetunm 
hoc Delphin(hn Epitheton.' y. Burm. ad Ovid. i. p. 369. 'Curvo 
De^dune.' Stat Tfaeb. L 131. Also Fanshaw's Pastor Fido. p. 11. 
< The orook-back'd dolphin loyes in jQoods.' 


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BOOK VII. 941 

Hugest of living creatures, on the deep 

Stretch'd like a promontory sleeps, or swims 

And seems a moving land, and at his gills 416 

Draws in, and at his trunk spouts out a sea. /-- 

Mean while the tepid caves, and fens, and shores. 

Their brood as numerous hatch from the egg, that 

Bursting with kindly rupture forth disclos'd 4i9 

Their callow young ; but feather'd soon and fledge. 
They summ'd their pens, and soaring th' air sublime v 
With clang despis'd the ground, under a cloud 
In prospect : there the eagle and the stork 
On cliffs and cedar tops their eyries build : 
Part loosely wing the region, part more wise 495 
In common rang'd in figure wedge their way, 
Intelligent of seasons, and set forth 
Their aery caravan, high over seas 
Flying, and over lands, with mutual wing 
Easing their flight ; so steers the prudent crane 4ao 

418 spouts] Ov. Met iiL 686. 

< Et acceptum patulls mare naribus ^flardJ ^ewUm. 
499 dang] See Stat Theb. xiL 516, and Bunnan's Note to Ovid. 
Metam. xiL 528. See OreUius on Amobios, vol. ii. p. 477. Tryphi- 
odorufl. v. 345. (Merrick's Transl.) 

* Loud as th' embody'd cranes, a niunerotis throng 
Driven by the stormy winter sail along, 
While the fidnt ploughman, and the labouring swain 
Curse the dire dangor of the noisy train.' 
« region] Spens. P. Q. iv. 8. 9. BenO. MS. 
^ steers] See Sir J. Davies on Dancing, p. 158. (1603.) 
* Yet do the cranes deserve a greater praise, 
Which keep such measure in their airy ways, 
As when they all in order ranked are.* 
VOL. I. 31 


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Her annual voyage^ borne on winds ; the air 
Floats, as they pass, fann'd with unnumber'd plumes. 
From branch to branch the smaller birds ^dth song 
Solac'd the woods, and spread their painted wings 
Till even ; nor then the solemn nightingale 435 

Ceas'd warbling, but all night tqg'd hej:^t ia^s». 
\^^ Others on silver lakes and rivers bath'd 

Their downy breast; the swbh, with arched neck 
Between her white wings mantling proudly, rows 
Her state with oary feet : yet oft they quit - 440 

^/^ The dank, and rising on stiff pennons tower 
^ The mid aerial sky. Others on ground 

Walk'd firm ; the crested cock,, whose clarion sounds 
The silent hours, and th' other, whose gay train 

«i air] See JEach. Prom. v. 125. 

&idiiQ d* ilaq>Qatg 
JTTB(f&jf(ay QtTtaXg ^ofrvgll^Bt, Toda, 
«4 Stdac'd] Virg. ^n. viL 32. 

* ^thera rmdcebcmi cantu.' Todd, 
«8 su>an\ See Donne's Poems, p. 297. (1633.) 

< When goodly like a ship in her full trim, 
A stoan so white that you may unto him 
Compare all whitenesse, hut himself to none, 
Glided along, and as he glided watch'd. 

And with his arched neck this poor fish catch'd. 
It mov'd with state.' 
«o oary] SU. Ital. xiv. 190. 

* Innatat alhus olor^ pronoque immobile corpus 
Dat fluvio, etpedOniB tacitas eremigat undas.' 

4^ crested cock] See Martial. Epig. xiv. 223. 

< CrUtaiaque sonant undique lucis aves.' 
See Sylvester's Du Bartas, p. 30. 

< The crested cock sings ** Hunt is up" to him.' 


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BOOK Vil. S43 

Adonis him, colour'd with the florid hue 445 

Of rainbows and starry eyes. The waters thus 
With fish replenish'd, and the air with fowl, 
Evening and mom solemniz'd the fifth day. 

The sixth, and of creation last, arose 
With evening harps and matin, when God said, 450 
Let the earth bring forth soul living in her kind. 
Cattle and creeping things, and beast of the earth. 
Each in their kind. The earth obey'd, and straight 
Opening her fertile womb teem'd at a birth 
Innumerous living creatures, perfect forms, 455 

Limb'd and full grovm. Out of the ground up rose 
As from his laire the wild beast, where he wonns 
In forest wild, in thicket, brake, or den ; 
Among the trees in pairs they rose, they walk'd ; 
The cattle in the fields and meadows green : 4eo 
Those rare and solitary, these in flocks 
Pasturing at once, and in broad herds upsprung. 

*^ starry eyes] See Beaumont's Psyche, c. L st 61. v. 9. 
' As when the gallant peacock doth display 
His «torry train.' 
and A. Ramssi Poem. Sacr. voL i. p. 8. 

' Dum tumet, et cands 8Ullat€R syrmata spectat' 

^1 soul] In Milton's own edition */oul living.' Bentley pointed 
out the error and corrected it 

4^ things] Bentley and Newton consider that there is an error in 
the text, and that we ought to read ' thing.' 

4^ womu] Fairfax's Tasso, b. xvL st 67. 

< A thousand devils in Limbo deep that wonneJ Todd, 
^^ hvad] HoDL n. xL 678. 

&tn6Xta tMjs* dt/dy. Rkhardton, 


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The grassy dods now ca]y'd; now half appear'd 
The tawny lion, pawing to get free hca 

His hinder parts, then springs as broke from bonds. 
And rampant shakes his brinded mane ; the ounce, 
The libbard, and the tiger, as the mole 
Rising, the crumbled earth above them threw 
In hillocks ; the swift stag from under ground 
Bore up his branching head ; scarce from his mould 
Behemoth, biggest bom of earth, upheav'd 4n 

His vastness : fleec'd the flocks and bleating rose, 
As plants : ambiguous between sea and land 
The river horse and scaly crocodile. 
At once came forth whatever creeps the ground, 47S 
Insect or worm ; those wav'd their limber fans 
For wings, and smallest lineaments exact 
In all the liveries deck'd of summer's pride 
With spots of gold and purple, azure and green : 

^A ealv>*d] See Nonni Dtonysiaca, iv. 427. 

Kal ardx^g dvroldxsvrog drijiSfiTO /i/drrdy, 
^/If B fUv -bijjiii&qrjvog dvidf^fisv dx^ rtralmiuf 
Sri/ldeog ivdf&grjKogj 5 dk n^o6o(f6yTt jra^i^oi 

^Alkog Hvfii nQdvKvyjBv is hfupalAv 8g S Mnt faXfi 
'H/ASteliig dyiTelXSf n6d6TQ8q>ks ^Tiloy dii^y 
^j4Xloe ^egx^TOVTa Idipoy Tr^^Jl^ra tuaXywy^ 
"OvTm arif^voy %<paivB, ttnl %iaiu fiif(tqlts dyiipmy 
'Ex laydyoDy jeard paidy dtiaq^iX fiiiqyaxo Kadf«^ 
«5 frro*e] Virg. iEn. «. 498. 

* Abruptis fugit pnesepia vinclis.* 
408 shakts] A. Ramsaei P. Sacr. vol. L p. 9. 

' Hinc Leo predator, Lybicis nova incola campia, 
Ore iremens, oculis scintillana, perque torosa 
CoUa jubaa jactans.' — 



BOOK Vll. 245 

HThese as a line their long dimension drew, 480 

Streaking the ground with sinuous trace ; not all 

Minims of nature ; some of serpent kind, 

Wondrous in length and corpulence, involved 

Their snaky folds and added wings. First crept 

The parsimonious emmet, provident 4S5 

Of future, in small room large heart inclos'd, 

Pattern of just equality perhaps 

Hereafter, joined in her popular tribes 

Of commonalty : swarming next appeared 

The female bee, that feeds her husband drone 490 

Deliciously, and builds her waxen cells 

With honey stor'd : the rest are numberless. 

And thou their natures know'st, and gav'st them 

Needless to thee repeated ; nor unknown 
The serpent, subtlest beast of aU the field, 496 

Of huge extent sometimes, with brazen eyes 
And hairy mane terrific, though to thee 
Not noxious, but obedient at thy call. 

^ snahffoldB] A. Rams. P. Sacr. L 10. 

< Atque orbibua orbes 
Implexos sinuantem anguem.' 
4B provident'-^arge ketiri] The former part from Hor. Sat I. L 
85, and the latter from Virg. Georg. iv. 63. JWtolon. 
^i wcaen cdls] So Marino's SI. of the Imiocents, p. 28. 
* Or when the bees, like murmuring armies, hide 
The tops of flowers, where sweetest nectar flows, 
And on their laden wings the odorous prey 
In troops, unto their waxen camp convey.' 
^ hairy mane\ See Virg. J^sl ii. 206. Petronii Troje Elosis, v. 
38. J. Obsequens de Prodigiis, p. 54. 'Angues jubati.' Plaiiti 


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Now heaven in all her glory shone, and roli'd 
Her motions, as the great First Mover's hand soo 
First wheePd their course ; earth in her rich attire 
Consummate lovely smil'd ; air, water, earth, 
By fowl, fish, beast, was flown, was swum, was walk'd 
Frequent ; and of the sixth day yet remained ; 
There wanted yet the master-work, the end sos 
Of all yet done ; a creature, who not prone 
And brute as other creatures, but indued 
With sanctity of reason, might erect 
His stature, and upright with front serene 
Govern the rest, self-knowing ; and from thence 5io 
Magnanimous to correspond with heaven ; 
But grateful to acknowledge whence his good 
Descends, thither with heart, and voice, and eyes 
Directed in devotion, to adore 
And worship God supreme, who made him chief 5i5 
Of all his works : therefore the onmipotent 
Eternal Father, (for where is not he 
Present ?) thus to his Son audibly spake. 

Let us make now man in our image, man 
In our similitude, and let them rule 830 

Over the fish and fowl of sea and air. 
Beast of the field, and over all the earth, 
And every creeping thing that creeps the ground. 
This said, he formed thee, Adam, thee, O man, 
Dust of the ground, and in thy nostrils breath'd 525 
The breath of life : in his own image he 

Amphitr. act v. sc. i. < Jubatus anguls major solitis.' Capitolia. '^it 
Anton. Pii, iz. 35, ed. Putman. 


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BOOK vu. 247 

Created thee, in the image of God 
Express, and thou becam'st a living soul. 
Mate he created thee, but thy consort 
Female for race ; then bless'd mankind, and said, sao 
Be fruitful, multiply, and fill the earth, 
Subdue it, and throughout dominion hold 
Over fish of the sea, and fowl of the air. 
And every living thing that moves on the earth. 
Wherever thus created, for no place 535 

Is yet distinct by name, thence, as thou know'st. 
He brought thee into this delicious grove, 
This garden, planted with the trees of God, 
Delectable both to behold and taste ; 
And freely all their pleasant fruit for food 540 

Gave thee; all sorts are here that all th' earth yields, 
Variety without end ; but of the tree. 
Which tasted, works knowledge of good and evil, 
I Thou may'st not : in the day thou eat'st thou dy'st ; 
Death is die penalty impos'd, beware, 545 

And govern well thy appetite, lest Sin 
I Surprise thee, and her black attendant Death. 
Here finish'd he, and all that he had made 
Viewed, and behold all was entirely good ; 
So ev'n and morn accomplished the sixth day : 550 
Yet not, till the Creator from his work 
Desisting, though unwearied, up returned. 
Up to the heaven of heavens his high abode, 

^^ thence] Tickell, Fentoii, and Bentley have adopted in this 
passa^ a wrong punctuation, putting only a comma after * earth' 
(534), and a full stop after < name' (536). Newton restored the reading 
of Milton's own editions* 




Thence to behold this new-created world, 
Th' addition of his empire, how it showed 6» 

In prospect from his throne, how good, how fair. 
Answering his great idea. Up he rode, 
FoUow'd with acclamation and the sound 
Sjmphonious of ten thousand harps, that tun'd 
Angelic harmonies : the earth, the air M) 

Resounded, (thpuremember'st, for thou heard'st;) 
The heavens and all the constellations rimg, 
The pladiets in their station listening stood. 
While the bright pomp ascended jubilant. 
Open, ye everlasting gates, they sung, 565 

Open, ye heavens, your living doors ; let in 
The great Creator, from his work returned 
Magnificent, his six days work, a world ! 
Open, and henceforth oft ; for God will deign 
To visit oft the dwellings of just men 690 

Delighted, and with frequent intercourse 
Thither will send his winged messengers 
On errands of supernal grace. So sung 
The glorious train ascending : He through heaven, 
That open'd wide her blazing portals, led 575 

To God's eternal house direct the way, 
A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold. 
And pavement stars, as stars to thee appear 
Seen in the galaxy, that milky way 
Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest 580 

Powder'd with stars. And now on earth the seventh 

aw Powdered] Sylvester's Du Birtas, p. 76. 

' Powdred wUh sUtrg streaming with glorious light' Todd. 


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BOOK VU. 249 

Eyening arose in Eden, for the sim 
Was set, and twilight from the east came on, 
Forerunning night ; when at the holy mount 
Of heaven's high seated top, th' imperial throne 585 V 
Of Godhead, fix'd for ever firm and sure, 
The Filial Power arrived, and sat him down 
With his great Father ; for he also went 
Invisible, yet stayed, (such privilege 
Hath Omnipresence,) and the work ordain'd, 590 
Author and end of all things, ancf from work 
Now resting, bless'd and hallow'd the seventh day, 
As resting on that day from all his work, 
But not in silence holy kept ; the harp 
Had work, and rested not ; the solemn pipe 595 

And dulcimer, all organs of sweet stop, 
All sounds on fret by striil^ or golden wire, 
Temper'd soft tunings, intermixed with voice 
Choral or unison : of incense clouds 
Fuming from golden censers hid the mount eoo 

Creation and the six days acts they sung ; 
Great are thy works, Jehovah, infinite 
Thy power ; what thought can measure thee, or t(Higue 
Relate thee ! greater now in thy return 
Than from the giant angels ; thee that daj eo5 

Thy thunders magnified ; but to create 
Is greater than created to destroy. 
Who can impair thee, mighty King, or bound 
Thy empire ! easily the proud attempt 
Of spirits apostate and their counsels vain eio 

Thou hast repelPd, while impiously they thought 
VOL. 1. 32 


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Thee to diminish, and from thee withdraw 
The nmnber of thy worshippers. Who seeks 
To lessen thee, against his purpose serves 
To manifest the more thy might : his evil eis 

Thou usest, and from thence creat'st more good. 
Witness this new-made world, another heaven 
From heaven gate not far, founded in view 
On the clear hyaline, the glassy sea ; 
Of amplitude almost immense, with stars 6B0 

Numerous, and ev6ry star perhaps a world 
Of destin'd habitation ; but thou know'st 
Their seasons : among these the seat of men. 
Earth, with her nether ocean circumfus'd, 
Their pleasant dwelling place. Thrice happy men, e25 
And sons of men, whom God hath thus advanced. 
Created in his image, therfi to dwell 
And worship him ; and in reward to rule 
Over his works, on earth, in sea, or air. 
And multiply a race of worshippers 630 

Holy and just : thrice happy, if they know 
Their happiness, and persevere upright. 
So sung they, and the empyrean rung 
With Hallelujahs : thus was Sabbath kept. 
And thy request think now fulfilPd, that ask'd 635 
How first this world and face of things began. 
And what before thy memory was done 
From the beginning, that posterity 
Inform'd by thee might know. If else thou seek'st 
Aught, not surpassing human measure, say. 640 


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Abam inquirefl concenung celestial motions, is doubtfully an- 
swer'dy and exhorted to search rather things more worthy of knowl- 
edge. Adam assents ; and still desirous to detain Raphael, relates 
to him what he remembered since his own creation ; his placing in 
Paradise ; his talk with Gon concerning solitude and fit society ; his 
first meeting and nuptials with Eve ; his discourse with the angel 
thereupon ; who^ after admonitions repeated, departs. 

The angel ended, and in Adam^s ear 
So charming left his voice, that he awhile 
Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear : 
Then, as new wak'd, thus gratefully replied. 

What thanks sufficient, or what recompence 6 
Equal, have I to render thee, divine 
Historian ? who thus largely hast allay'd 

1 The angel] In the first edition of this Poem in ten books, here 
was only this line, 

To whom thus Adam gratefiilly replied. 
This would have been too abrupt a beginning for a new book. 

S Whai fhanka] See Beaumont's Psyche, c. ziL st 171. 
* My soule's sweet fiiend, what thanks can I repay 
For all this honey which thy tongue hath shed,' 


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The thirst I had of knowledge, and vouchsaPd 

This friendly condescension to relate 

Things else by me unsearchable, now heard lo 

With wonder, but delight, and, as is due. 

With glory attributed to the high 

Creator : something yet of doubt remains, 

Which only thy solution can resolve. 

When I behold this goodly frame, this world, 15 

Of heaven and earth consisting, and compute 

Their magnitudes, this earth a spot, a grain. 

An atom, with the firmament compared 

And all her numbered stars, that seem to roU 

Spaces incomprehensible^ (for such so 

Their distance argues, and their swift return 

Diurnal, ) merely to officiate light 

Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot. 

One day and night, in all their vast survey 

Useless besides ; reasoning I oft admire, 95 

How nature wise and frugal could commit 

Such disproportions, with superfluous hand 

So many nobler bodies to create, 

Greater so manifold, to this one use. 

For aught appears, and on their orbs impose so 

Such restless revolution day by day 

8 The tkirH] See Dante U Purgator. c. xviiL ver. 4. 
* Ed io, cui nuova sete ancor fhigavm, 
Di f\ior taceva, e dentro dicea.* 
' condeacension] Conversation, ver. 649. BeaU, MS. 
14 solvUon] Decision. BenU. MS. 
" goodly] Hamlet, act ii. scene ii. 

'This goodly frame the Earth.' 


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BOOK vm. 858 

Repeated, while the sedentary earth, 

That better might with far less compass move, 

Served by more noble than herself, attains 

Her end without least motion, and receives, 95 

As tribute, such a sumless journey brought 

Of incorporeal speed, her warmth and light ; 

Speed, to describe whose swiftness number fails. 

So spake our sire, and by his count'nance seem'd 
Entering on studious thoughts abstruse ; which Eve 
Perceiving where she sat retir'd in sight, 4i 

With lowliness majestic from her seat. 
And grace that won who saw to wish her stay. 
Rose, and went forth among her fruits and flowers, 
To visit how they prospered, bud and bloom, 45 
Her nursery ; they at her coming sprung, 
And touch'd by her fair tendance gladlier grew. 
Yet went she not, as not with such discourse 
Delighted, or not capable her ear 
Of what was high : such pleasure she reservM, 60 
Adam relating, she sole auditress ; 
Her husband the relater she preferred 
Before the angel, and of him to ask 
Chose rather ; he, she knew, would intermix 

^ 9prung] So Marino Aden* c iiL st 65, and c. tL st 146. 
' Tutto al Tenir d'Adon par che ridentd 
Rivesta il bel giardin novi colon.' Thyer. 
^ to oak] In accordance with St Paul, Corinth, i. xiv. 35. 'And 
if they (women) will learn any thing, let them ask their husbands at 


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Grateful digressions, and solve high dispute 66 

With conjugal caresses; from his lip 

Not words alone pleased her. O when meet now 

Such pairs, in love and mutual honour joinM? 

With goddess-like demeanour forth she went ; 

Not unattended, for on her as queen 6o 

A pomp of winning graces waited still, 

And from about her shot darts of desire 

Into all eyes to wish her still in sight* 

And Raphael now to Adam's doubt proposed 

Benevolent and facile thus replied. 66 

To ask or search I blame thee not, for heav'n 
Is as the book of God before thee set, 
Wherein to read his wondrous works, and learn 
His seasons, hours, or days, or months, or years. 
This to attain, whether heaven move or earth, to 
Imports not, if thou reckon right ; the rest 
From man or angel the great Architect 
Did wisely to conceal, and not divulge 
His secrets to be scann'd by them who ought 
Rather admire ; or if they list to try 75 

^ sohe] * Sic ait, ac mediis interaerit oacula veibia' 

and EpiBt xiiL ver. 119, ed. Bunn. voL L p. 180. 

( 0,110 mihi dum referes, quamvis aadire juvabit ; 
Multa tamen capiea oscula, mnlta dabls. 
Semper in hia apte narrantia verba resistant 
Promtior eat dulci lingua retenta mora.' 
« $M] See Greene's Never too late, P. act 2. (1616.) 
*His bow of Steele, darU of fire 
He skoi amongst them sweet duirtJ 


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Conjecture, he his fabric of the heavens 

Hath left to their disputes, perhaps to move 

His laughter at their quaint opinions wide 

Hereafter, when they come to model heaven 

And calculate the stars, how they will wield so 

The mighty frame, how build, unbuild, contrive. 

To save appearances ; (how gird the sphere 

With centric and eccentric scribbled o'er, 

Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb. 

Already by thy reasoning this I guess, 85 

Who art to lead thy offspring, and supposest, 

That bodies bright and greater should not serve 

The less not bright, nor heaven such journeys run. 

Earth sitting still, when she alone receives 

The benefit. Consider first, that great 90 

Or bright infers not excellence : the earth 

Though, in comparison of heaven, so s&iall. 

Nor glistering, may of solid good contain 

More plenty than the sun, that barren shines. 

Whose virtue on itself works no effect, 96 

But in the fruitful earth : ther^ first received, 

His beams, unactive else, their vigour find. 

Yet not to earth are those bright luminaries 

^ uhen] Manilii Astr. iv. 158. 

( Inveniunt et in astra vias, numerisqae modisque 
CoDsmmnant orbem,* 
^ eccentric] See Dekker's If this be not a good Play the Devil is 
in it, p. 43. 'In gibberish no man understands of quartiles, aspects, 
centricall, eccentrical, cosmial, acronicall,' &c. ; and Lisle's Da 
Bartas, 174. <Concentrike,ezcentricke, epicycle, apogee.' Sylvester^ 
Da Bartas, p. 140^143. 


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Officious, but to thee earth's habitant. 

And for the heavens wide circuit, let it speak lOO 

The Maker's high magnificence, who built 

So spacious, and his line stretchM out so far ; 

That man may know he dwells not in his own ; 

An edifice too large for him to fill, 

Lodg'd in a small partition, and the rest 105 

Ordain'd for uses to his Lord best known. 

The swiftness of those circles attribute. 

Though numberless, to his omnipotence, 

That to corporeal substances could add 

Speed almost spiritual : me thou think'st not slow, no 

Who since the morning hour set out from heaven 

Where God resides, and ere mid-day arriv'd 

In Eden, distance inexpressible 

By numbers that have name. But this I urge, 

Admitting motion in the heavens, to show ii5 

Invalid that which thee to doubt it movM ; 

Not that I so affirm, though so it seem 

To thee who hast thy dwelling here on earth. 

God, to remove his ways from human sense, 

Plac'd heav'n from earth so far, that earthly sight, iflo 

If it presume, might err in things too high. 

And no advantage gain. What if the sun 

Be centre to the world, and other stars. 

By his attractive virtue and their own 

Incited, dance about him various rounds ? 1S5 

Their wand'ring course now high, now low, then hid. 

Progressive, retrograde, or standing still. 

In six thou seest ; and what if seventh to these 


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BOOK vm. 867 

The planet earth, so steadfest though she serai, 

Insensibly three different motions move ? lao 

Which else to several spheres thou must asciibei 

Mov'd contrary with thwart obliquities. 

Or save the sun his labour, and that swift 

Nocturnal and (liumal rhomb supposed, 

Invisible else above all stars, the wheel las 

Of day and night ; which needs not thy belief, 

If earth industrious of her self fetch day 

Travelling east, and with her part averse 

From the sun's beam meet night, her other part 

Still luminous by hb ray. What if that light, 140 

Sent from her through the wide transpicuous air. 

To the terrestrial moon be as a star 

Enlightening her by day, as she by night 

This ^^urth ? reciprocal, if land be there. 

Fields and inhabitants : her spots thou seest 146 

As clouds, and clouds may rain, and rain produce 

Fruits in her soften'd soil, for some to eat 

Allotted there ; and other suns perhaps 

With their attendant moons thou wilt desciy. 

Communicating male and female light, 150 

Which two great sexes animate the world. 

Stored in each orb perhaps with some that live. 

For such vast room in nature unpossess'd 

By living soul, desert and desolate. 

Only to shine, yet scarce to contribute i66 

IV cMribuU] With the same accentuation in May's Edw. IIL 

' Must c6ntribute to Philip's overthrow.' Todd. 
VOL. I. 33 


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Each orb a glimpse of light, conrey'd so £aur 
Down to this habitable, which returns h. 

Light back to them, is obvious to dispute. 
But whether thus these things, or whether not. 
Whether the sun predominant in heaven leo 

Rise on the earth, or earth rise on the sun, 
He from the east his flaming road begin. 
Or she from west her silent course advance 
With inofiensive pace, that spinning sleeps 
On her soft axle, while she paces even, i65 

And bears thee soft with the smooth air along, 
Solicit not thy thoughts with matters hid; 
Leave them to God above, him serve and fear : 
Of other creatures, as him pleases best. 
Wherever placed, let him dispose : joy thou 170 

In what he gives to thee, this paradise , 

And thy fair Eve ; heaven is for thee too high 
To know what passes there ; be lowly wise : 
Think only what concerns thee and thy being ; 
Dream not of other worlds, what creatures there its 
Live, in what state, condition, or degree. 
Contented that thus far hath been reveal'd 
Not of earth only, but of highest heav'n. 

To whom thus Adam, clear'd of doubt, reply'd. 
How fully hast thou satisfy'd me, pure iso 

Intelligence of heaven, angel serene, 
And freed from intricacies, taught to live 
The easiest way, nor with perplexing thoughts 

^^ Jkumng] Perhaps Milton had in mind the drtM^ ifloY&9fag 
41«o<Ft*/?8ig in the Prometheufl of .fiachylus, yerse 816. wl Dyce. 


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BOOK vni. S59 

To interrupt the sweet of life, from which 

God hath bid dwell far off all anxious cares, 185 

And not molest us, unless we our selves 

Seek them with wandering thoughts, and notions vain. 

But apt the mind or fancy is to rove 

Unchecked, and of her roving is no end ; 

Till warn'd, or by experience taught, she learn, 190 

That not to know at large of things remote 

From use, obscure and subtle, but to know 

That which before us lies in daily life. 

Is the prime wisdom ; what is more, is fume, 

Or emptiness, or fond impertinence, 196 

And renders us in things that most concern 

Unpractis'd, unprepar'd, and still to seek. 

Therefore from this high pitch let us descend 

A lower flight, and speak of things at hand 

Useful, whence haply mention may arise aoo 

Of something not unseasonable to ask 

By sufferance, and thy wonted favour deign'd. 

Thee I have heard relating what was done 

Ere my remembrance : now hear me relate 

My story, which perhaps thou hast not heard ; 305 

And day is not yet spent ; till then thou seest 

How subtly to detain thee I devise. 

Inviting thee to hear while I relate. 

Fond, were it not in hope of thy reply : 

For while I sit with thee, I seem in heaven, 210 

And sweeter thy discourse b to my ear 

sn sweeUr] Stfllingfleet refers to Homer's Od. iv. 694, and Newton 
to Virg. Eel. V. 45. 


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Than fruits of palm-tree pleasantest to thiist 
And hunger both, from labour, at the hour 
Of sweet repast : they satiate, and soon fill, 
Though pleasant ; but thy words, with grace divine 
Imbu'd, bring to their sweetness no satiety. 216 

To whom thus Raphael answer'd heavenly meek. 
Nor are thy lips ungraceful, sire of men, 
Nor tongue ineloquent ; for God on thee 
Abundantly his gifts hath also pouFd sao 

Inward and outward both, his image fair : 
Speaking or mute all comeliness and grace 
Attends thee, and each word, each motion forms. 
Nor less think we in heaven of thee on earth. 
Than of our fellow servant, and inquire 236 

Gladly into the ways of God with man : 
For God we see hath honoured thee, and set 
On man his equal love. Say therefore on ; 
For I that day was absent, as befell. 
Bound on a voyage uncouth and obscure, sao 

Far on excursion toward the gates of hell, 
Squar'd in full legion, (such command we had,) 
To see that none thence issu'd forth a spy^ 
Or enemy, while God was in his work, 
Lest he, incens'd at such eruption bold, 235 

Destruction with creation might have mixM. 
Not that they durst without his leave attempt, 

ai6 bring] See Dante H Purgator. c. xxxi. v. 128. 
<L' anima mia gustaira di quel cibo, 
Che saziando di se di se asseta.' 
^^Forl] How then could he relate the creation? BenU. MS, 


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BOOK Vlll. 261 

But us he sends upon his high behests 

For state, as Sov'reign King, and to enure 

Our prompt obedience. Fast we found, fast shut 

The dismal gates, and barricado'd strong ; 241 /C 

But long ere our approachmg heaid withui 

Noise, other than the sound of dance or song. 

Torment, and loud lament, and furious rage. 

Glad we returned up to the coast of light S45 

Ere sabbath evening : so we had in charge. 

But thy relation now; for I attend, 

Pleased with thy words, no less than thou with mine* 

So spake the godlike power, and thus our sire. 
For man to tell how human life began aso 

Is hard ; for who himself beginnings knew ? 
Desire with thee still longer to converse 
Induc'd me. As new wak'd from soundest sleep 
Soft on the flowery herb I found me laid, 
In balmy sweat, which with his beams the sun 356 
Soon dry'd, and on the reeking moisture fed. 
Straight toward heaven my wond'ring eyes I tum'd. 
And gaz'd a while the ample sky, till rais'd ^ 

By quick instinctive motion up I sprung, 
As thitherward endeavouring, and upright 260 

Stood on my feet : about me round I saw 
Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains. 
And liquid lapse of murmuring streams ; by these 
Creatures that livM, and movM, and walk'd, or flew ; 

996 aanflU] at th' aziure. BenO. MS. 

9BS Uqwd l€Bpu\ 'Prope fontis adlafMsum.' y. Apulei Metam. v. p. 
141. ed. Delph. 




Birds on the branches warbling ; all things smil'd, 

With fragrance and with joy my heart o'erflow'd. 366 

Myself I then perus'd, and limb by limb 

Survey'd, and sometimes went, and sometimes ran 

With supple joints, as lively vigour led : 

But who I was, or where, or from what cause, 270 

Knew not : to speak I try'd, and forthwith spake ; 

My tongue obey'd, and readily could name 

Whatever I saw. Thou sun, said I, fair light. 

And thou enlighten'd earth, so fresh and gay, 

Ye hills and dales, ye rivers, woods, and plains, S75 

And ye liiat live and move, fair creatures, tell, 

Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus, how here ? 

Not of my self, by some great Maker then, 

In goodness and in power praeeminent : 

Tell me, how may I know him, how adore, sso 

From whom I have that thus I move and live, 

And feel that I am happier than I know. 

While thus I call'd, and strayed I knew not whither, 

From where I first drew air, and first beheld 

This happy light, when answer none retum'd, S85 

^BS amiPd] ToAson's ecL 1727, prints the passage thus, 
< — — all things smil'd 
With fragrance ; and with joy my heart o^rflow'd.' 
fientley's edition and others followed the same punctuation: bat 
IClton's own edition does not support it 

*» as] the second edition reads * and lively,' which Newton con- 
ceives to be an error of the press. 

9^ name] Warburton has pointed out a contradiction between this 
passage and ver. 352. In the first, Adam says he coidd name wh&t 
he saw before he got into Paradise ; in the latter, that God gave him 
the ability when the beasts came to him m Paradise. 


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On a green shady bank profuse of flow'rs 

Pensive I sat me down ; there gentle sleep 

First'found me, and with soft oppression seiz'd 

Mj droused sense, untroubled, though I thought 

I then was passing to my former state 990 

Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve : 

When suddenly stood at my head a dream, 

Whose inward apparition gently mov'd 

My fancy to believe I yet had being, 

And liv'd : one came, methought, of shape divine, S96 

And said, Thy mansion wants thee, Adam ; rise. 

First man, of men innumerable ordain'd 

First father! calPd by thee, I come thy guide 

To the garden of bliss, thy seat prepared. 

So saying, by the hand he took me rais'd, 900 

And over fields and waters, as in air 

Smooth sliding without step, last led me up 

A woody mountain ; whose high top was plain, 

A circuit wide, enclosed, with goodliest trees 904 

Planted, with walks, and bowers, that what I saw 

Of earth before scarce pleasant seem'd. Each tree 

Loaden with fairest fruit, that hung to the eye 

Tempting, stirr'd in me sudden appetite 

To pluck and eat ; whereat I wak'd, and found 

Before mine eyes all real, as the dream sio 

Had lively shadowM : here had new begun 

My wand'ring, had not he, who was my guide 

Up hither, from among the trees appeared, 

Presence Divine. Rejoicing, but with awe. 

In adoration at his feet I fell 315 


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Submiss : He rear'd me, and, Whom thou sought'st 

I am, 
Said mildly, author of all this thou seest 
Above, or round about thee, or beneath. 
This paradise I give thee, count it thine 
To till and keep, and of the fruit to eat : aao 

Of every tree that in the garden grows 
Eat freely with glad heart ; fear here no dearth : 
But of the Tree whose operation brings 
Knowledge of good and ill, which I have set 
The pledge of thy obedience and thy faith 326 

Amid the garden by the Tree of Life, 
Remember what I warn thee, shun to taste, 
And shun the bitter consequence : for know. 
The day thou eat'st thereof, my sole command 
Transgrest, inevitably thou shalt die ; 330 

From that day mortal, and this happy state 
Shalt lose, expelPd from hence into a world 
Of woe and sorrow. Sternly he pronouncM 
The rigid interdiction, which resounds 
Yet dreadful in mine ear, though in my choice 335 
Not to incur ; but soon his clear aspect 
Retum'd and gracious purpose thus renew'd* 
Not only these fair bounds, but all the earth 
To thee and to thy race I give ; as lords 
Possess it, and all things that therein live, 340 

Or live in sea, or air, beast, fish, and fowl. 
In sign whereof each bird and beast behdd 

3» wnid] See Chapman's Horn. D. p. 215. * Brought us Worlds 
of Woe.' 


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After their kinds ; I bring them to receive 

From thee their names, and pay thee fealty 

WitS low subjection ; understand^ the same 345 

Of fish within their watery residence 

Not hither summon'd since they cannot change 

Their element to draw the thinner air. 

As thus he spake^ each bird and beast behold 

Approaching two and two ; these cowering low 350 

With blandishment, each bird stoop'd on his wing. 

I nam'd them, as they pass'd, and understood 

Their nature, with such knowledge God indued 

My sudden apprehension : but in these 

1 found not what me thought I wanted still; 355 

And to the heavenly vision thus presumed* 

O by what name, for thou above all these, 
Above mankind, or aught than mankind higher, 
Surpassest far my naming, how may I 
Adore thee. Author of this universe, sao 

And all this good to man, for whose well being 
So amply, and with hands so liberal, 
Thou hast provided all. things ? but with me 
I see not who partakes. In solitude 
What happiness, who can enjoy alone, 365 

Or all enjoying what contentment find ? 
Thus I presumptuous ; and the vision bright. 
As with a smile more brighten'd, thus reply'd. 

What call'st thou solitude ? Is not the earth 
With various living creatures and the air sro 

Replenished, and all these at thy command 
To come and play before thee ? Know'st thou not 

VOL. I, 34 


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Their language and their ways ? They also know, 

And reason not contemptibly ; with these 

Find pastime, and bear rule ; thy realm is larg^. 375 

So spake the universal Lord, and seem'd 
So ordering. I, with leave of speech implor'd, 
And humble deprecation, thus reply'd. 

Let not my words offend thee, heavenly Power, 
My Maker, be propitious while I speak. 380 

Hast thou not made me here thy substitute, 
And these inferior far beneath me set ? 
Among unequals what society 
Can sort, what harmony, or true delight ? 
Which must be mutual, in proportion due, 385 

Giv'n and received ; but in disparity. 
The one intense, the other still remiss. 
Cannot well suit with either, but soon prove 
Tedious alike : of fellowship I speak 
Such as I seek, fit to participate 390 

All rational delight, wherein the brute 
Cannot be human consort : they rejoice 
Each with their kind, lion with lioness ; 
So fitly them in pairs thou hast combined ; 
Much less can bird with beast, or fish with fowl, 395 
So well converse, nor with the ox the ape ; 
Worse then can man with beast, and least of all. 

Whereto th' Almighty answer'd, not displeasM. 
A nice and subtile happiness I see 
Thou to thyself proposest, in the choice 400 

Of thy associates, Adam, and wilt taste 
No pleasure, though in pleasure, solitary. 




What think'st thou then of me, and this my state ? 
Seem I to thee sufficiently possest 
Of happiness, or not, who am alone 405 

From all eternity ? for none I know 
Second to me or like, equal much less. 
How have I then with whom to hold converse. 
Save with the creatures which I made, and those 
To me inferior, infinite descents 4io 

Beneath what other creatures are to thee ? 
He ceas'd, I lowly answered. To attain 
The highth and depth of thy eternal ways 
All human thoughts come short. Supreme of things ; 
Thou in thy self art perfect, ^d in thee 4i5 

Is no deficience found : not so is man. 
But in degree, the cause of his desire 
By conversation with his like to help, 
Or solace his defects. No need that thou 
Should'st propagate, already infinite, 420 

And through all numbers absolute, though one. 
But man by number is to manifest 
His single imperfection, and beget 
Like of his like, his image multiply'd, 
In unity defective, which requires 425 

Collateral love, and dearest amity. 
Thou in thy secrecy although alone. 
Best with thy self accompany 'd, seek'st not 
Social communication ; yet so pleased 

^ Second\ Hot. Od. L xiL 18. 

' Nee vi^t qtiidqnam simile, ant secandnm.' JVetsfon. 


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Canst raise thj creature to what highth thou wilt 43o 

Of union or communion, deify'd ; 

I by conversmg cannot these erect 

From prone, nor in their ways complacence find. 

Thus I emboldened spake, and freedom us'd 

Permissive, and acceptance found ; which gain'd 435 

This -answer from the gracious Voice Divine. 

Thus far to try thee, Adam, I was pleas'd. 
And find thee knowing not of beasts alone. 
Which thou hast rightly nam'd, but of thy self. 
Expressing well the spirit within thee free, 440 

My image, not imparted to the brute ; 
Whose fellowship therefore unmeet for thee 
Good reason was thou fireely should'st dislike, 
And be so minded still : I, ere thou spak'st, 
Knew it not good for man to be alone, 445 

And no such company as then thou saw'st 
Intended thee, for trial only brought. 
To see how thou could'st judge of fit and meet. 
What next I bring shall please thee, be assured. 
Thy likeness, thy fit help, thy other self, 450 

Thy wish exactly to thy heart's desire. 

He ended, or I heard no more ; for now 
My earthly by his heavenly overpowered, 
Which it had long stood under, strain'd to the highth 
In that celestial colloquy sublime, 455 

As with an object that excels the sense, 
Dazzled, and spent, sunk down, and sought repair 
Of sleep, which instantly fell on me, call'd 
By nature as in aid, and clos'd mine eyes. 


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Mine eyes he clos'd, but open left the ceil 4eo 

Of fancy my internal sight, by which 

Abstract as in a trance me thought I saw, 

Though sleeping, where I lay, and saw the shape 

Still glorious before whom awake I stood ; 

Who stooping open'd my left side, and took 466 

From thence a rib, with cordial spirits warm. 

And life-blood streammg fresh ; wide was the wound, 

But suddenly with flesh fill'd up and heal'd. 

The rib he form'd and fashion'd with his hands ; 

Under his forming hands a creature grew 470 

Manlike, but difierent sex, so lovely fair. 

That what seem'd fair in all the world, seem'd now 

Mean, or in her summ'd up, in her contained 

And in her looks, which from that time infiis'd 

Sweetness into my heart, unfelt before, 475 

And into all things from her air inspir'd 

The spirit of love and amorous delight. 

She disappear'd, and left me dark, I wak'd 

To find her, or for ever to deplore 

Her loss, and other pleasures all abjure. 480 

When out of hope, behold her, not far off. 

Such as I saw her in my dream, adom'd 

With what all earth or heaven could bestow 

To make her amiable : on she came. 

Led by her heavenly Maker, though unseen, 486 

^ the shape] the same. BerdL MS. 
475 unfeli] Fairfiuc's Tasso, xix. 94. 

' A sweetDess strange from that sweet voice's sound 
Pierced my heart' B<neU, 


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And guided by his voice, nor uninfonn'd 

Of nuptial sanctity and marriage rites : 

Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, 

In every gesture dignity and love. 

I overjoyed could not forbear aloud. 490 

This turn hath made amends ; thou hast fiilfill'd 
Thy words, Creator bounteous and benign. 
Giver of all things fair, but fairest this 
Of all thy gifts, nor enviest. I now see 
Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, my self 495 

Before me ; woman is her name, of man 
Extracted ; for this cause he shall forego 
Father and mother, and to his wife adhere ; 
And they shall be one flesh, one heart, one soul. 

She heard me thus, and though divinely brought, 
Yet innocence and virgin modesty, 601 

Her virtue and the conscience of her worth, 
That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won, 
Not obvious, not obtrusive, but retired, 
The more desirable, or, to say all, 505 

Nature herself, though pure of sinful thought. 
Wrought in her so, that seeing me she turnM ; 
I followed her, she what was honour knew. 
And with obsequious majesty approved 

488 heaoen] Fletcher's Philaster, act iiL scene 1. 
< How HecBoen is in yonr eyes,* Todd, 

^ conacienee] For consciousness. So Cic de Senectate : < Con' 
scientia bene acts vito jucundissima est,' and in the English version 
of the Bible, Heb. x. 2. < Should have no more emucietue of sins.' 


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BOOK Vm. 271 

My pleaded reason. To the nuptial bower 6io 

I led her blushing like the morn : all heaven. 

And hsfppy constellations on that hour 

Shed their selectest influence ; the earth 

Gave sign of gratulation, and each hill ; 

Joyous the birds ; fresh gales and gentle airs 615 

Whisper'd it to the woods, and from their wings 

Flung rose, flung odours from the spicy shrub. 

Disporting, till the amorous bird of night 

Sung spousal, and bid haste the evening star 

On his hill top to light the bridal lamp. 520 

Thus I have told thee all my state, and brought 
My story to the sum of earthly bliss, 
Which I enjoy, and must confess to find 
In all things else delight indeed, but such 
As, us'd or not, works in the mind no change, 525 
Nor vehement desire ; these delicacies 
I mean of taste, sight, smell, herbs, fruits, and flowers, 
Walks, and the melody of birds : but here 
Far otherwise, transported I behold. 
Transported touch ; here passion first I felt, 530 

Commotion strange, in all enjoyments else 
Superior and unmov'd, here only weak 
Against the charm of beauty's powerful glance. 
Or nature fail'd in me, and left some part 
Not proof enough such object to sustain, 535 

sn bkuhhg] Fletcher's F. Shepherd, act i. scene 1. 

* O you are fairer far 

Than the chaste JduaMng mom,^ Todd. 
^ hirds] Herds. BenO. Jlf5. 


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Or from my side subducting took perhaps 

More than enough ; at least on her bestow'd 

Too much of ornament, in outward show 

Elaborate, of inward less exact. 

For well I understand in the prime end 640 

Of nature her th' mferior, in the mind 

And inward faculties, which most excel, 

In outward also her resembling less 

His image who made both, and less expressing 

The character of that dominion given 646 

O'er other creatures : yet when I approach 

Her loveliness, so absolute she seems 

And in herself complete, so well to know 

Her own, that what she wills to do or say 

Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best : 660 

All higher knowledge in her presence fiadls 

Degraded, wisdom in discourse with her 

Loses discountenanced, and like folly shows : 

Authority and reason on her wait, 

As one intended first, not after made 656 

Occasionally ; and, to consummate all, 

Greatness of mind and nobleness their seat 

Build in her loveliest, and create an awe 

About her, as a guard angelic plac'd. 

To whom the angel with contracted brow. 560 

8» Loges dtacounUtuuu^d] *Lo6kB diBconcerted.' BenU. M& 
MO ambracUd hrow] 

* To whom the angel, whose severer brow 

Sent forth a frown,' 

See Quaries' Divine Poems, p. 250 ; and Shepherd's Orftcle, p. eOl 


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Accuse not nature, she hath done her part ; 

Do thou but thine, and be not diffident 

Of wisdom, she deserts thee not, if thou 

Dismiss not her, when most thou need'st her nigh, 

By attributing overmuch to things MS 

Less excellent, as thou thyself perceiv'st. 

For what admir'st thou, what transports thee so ? 

An outside ? fair no doubt, and worthy well 

Thy cherishing, thy honouring, and thy love. 

Not thy subjection : weigh with her thyself; 570 

Then value : oft times nothing profits more 

Than self-esteem, grounded on just and right 

Well manag'd : of that skill the more thou know'st. 

The more she will acknowledge thee her head. 

And to realities yield all her shows ; sr& 

Made so adorn for thy delight the more, 

So awful, that with honour thou may'st love 

Thy mate, who sees when thou art seen least wise. 

But if the sense of touch whereby mankind 

Is propagated seem such dear delight sso 

Beyond all other, think the same vouchsaf d 

To cattle and each beast ; which would not be 

To them made common and divulg'd, if aught 

Therein enjoyed were worthy to subdue 

The soul of man, or passion in him move. 685 

What higher in her society thou find'st 

Attractive, human, rational, love still : 

In loving thou dost well, in passion not, 

'^ adom] V. Spens. F. Qu. iii. xii. SO. • 

* Without adome of gold, or eilver bright' BowU, 
TOL. I. 35 


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nVherein true love consists not : love refines 

The thoughts, and heart enlarges ; hath his seat soo 

In reason, and is judicious ; is the scale 

By which to heavenly love thou may'st ascend, 

Not sunk in carnal pleasure ; for which cause 

Among the beasts no mate for thee was found. 

To whom thus half abash'd Adam reply'd. 595 
Neither her outside form'd so fair, nor aught 
In procreation common to all kinds, 
(Though higher of the genial bed by far 
And with mysterious reverence I deem,) 
So much delights me, as those graceful acts, goo 
Those thousand decencies that daily flow 
From all her words and actions, mix'd with love 
And sweet compliance, which declare unfeign'd 
Union of mind, or in us both one soul ; 
Harmony to behold in wedded pair gob 

More grateful than harmonious sound to the ear. 
Yet these subject not ; I to thee disclose 
Wliat inward thence I feel, not therefore foiPd, 
Who meet with various objects, from the sense 
Variously representing ; yet still free eio 

Approve the best, and follow what I approve. 
To love thou blam'st me not, for love thou say'st 
Leads up to heaven, is both the way and guide ; 
Bear with me then, if lawful what I ask : 
Love not the heavenly spirits, and how their love 6i5 

<W8 genud bed] < Genialis LectolL' Arnob. lib. iv. c. 30. Apuleius 
d^Aflino. <F(Bdu8 thori genialis.' v. Orellium ad Amob. vol. iL 
p. 319. 


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BOOK vni. 215 

Express they ? by looks only? cmt do they mix 
Irradiance, virtual or immediate touch ? 

To whom the angel with a smile that glowed 
Celestial rosy red, love's proper hue, 
Answer'd. Let it suffice thee that thou know'st eao 
Us happy, and without love no happiness. 
Whatever pure thou in the body enjoy'st, 
(And pure thou wert created,) we enjoy 
In eminence, and obstacle find none 
Of membrane, joint, or limb, exclusive bars : ess 
Easier than air with air, if spirits embrace. 
Total they mix, union of pure with pure 
Desiring ; nor restrain'd conveyance need 
As flesh to mix with flesh, or soul with soul. 
But I can now no more ; the parting sun 630 

Beyond the earth's green Cape and Verdant Isles, 
Hesperean sets, my signal to depart. 
Be strong, live happy, and love! but first of all 
Him whom to love is to obey, and keep 
His great command ; take heed lest passion sway 
Thy judgment to do aught, which else free will 636 
Would not admit ; thine and of all thy sons 
The weal or woe in thee is plac'd ; beware ! 
I in thy persevering shall rejoice. 
And all the blest : stand fast ; to stand or fall 640 

<^i green Cape] See Lisle's Du Bartas, p. 94. 
* Thrusts out the Cape of Fesse, the green Cape and the white.' 
<37 admiiU] Used in the Latin sense, as in Ter. Heaut act ▼. sc iL 
< Quid ego tantom sceleiis adrnti miser ?* N^ewUnu 


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Free in thine own arbitrement it lies ; 
Perfect within, no outward aid require, 
And all temptation to transgress repel. 

So saying, he arose ; whom Adam thus 
Followed with benediction. Since to part, 64? 

Go, heavenly guest, ethereal messenger, 
v^ Sent from whose sov'reign goodness I adore. 

Gentle to me and affable hath been 
Thy condescension, and shall be honoured ever . 
With grateful memory : thou to mankind 660 

Be good and friendly still, and oft return. 

So parted they, the angel up to heaven 
From the thick shade, and Adam to his bower. 

«*l JFVc«] See Pante D Purgat c. xxviL v. 127. 

' Non aspettar mio dir piii, n^ mio cenno. 
Libero, dritto, e sano ^ txio arbitrio ; 
E fallo font non fare a sue senna' 
0S3 bower] Compare the parting of Jupiter and Thetia in Hon. 

— ^./u^y hiena 


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Satan having compassed the earth, with meditated goile retQins 
as a mist by night into Paradise^ and enters into the serpent sleeping. 
Adam and Eve in the morning go forth to their laboim, which Eve 
proposes to divide in several places, each labouring apart: Adam 
consents not, alleging the danger, lest that enemy, of whom they 
were forewarned, should attempt her found alone : Eve, loth to be 
thought not circumspect or finn enough, urges her going apart, the 
rather desirous to make trial <^ her strength : Adam at last yields : 
the serpent finds her alone ; his subtle approach, first gazing, then 
speaking, with much flattery extolling Eve above all other creatures. 
Eve, wondering to hear the serpent speak, asks how he attained to 
human speech and such understanding not till now; the serpent 
answers, that by tasting of a certain tree in the garden he attained 
both to speech and reason, till then void of both : Eve requires him 
to bring her to that tree, and finds it ta be the Tree of Knowledge 
forbidden; the serpent, now grown bolder, with many wiles and 
arguments induces her at length to eat: she, pleased with the taste, 
deliberates a while whether to impart thereof to Adam, or not ; at last 
brings him of the firoit, relates what persuaded her to eat thereof: 
Adam at first amazed, but perceiving her lost, resolves, through 
vehemence of love, to perish with her, and extenuating the trespass eats 
also of the firuit: the efi^ects thereof im them both : Aey seek to cover 
their nakedness : then &11 to variance and accusation of one another. 

No more of talk where God or angel guest 
With man, as with his friend, familiar used 


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To sit indulgent, and with him partake 
Rural repast, permitting him the while 
Venial discourse unblam'd : I now must change 5 
Those notes to tragic ; foul distrust, and breach 
Disloyal on the part of man, revolt. 
And disobedience : on the part of heaven 
Now alienated, distance and distaste, 
Anger, and just rebuke, and judgment given, lo 
That brought into this world a world of woe. 
Sin and her shadow death, and misery 
Death's harbinger : sad task, yet argument 
Not less but more heroic than the wrath 
Of stem Achilles on his foe pursuM i5 

N^ Thrice fugitive about Troy wall ; or rage 

Of Turnus for Lavinia disespous'd. 
Or Neptune's ire or Juno's, that so long 
Perplex'd the Greek and -Cy therea's son : 
If answerable style I can obtain so 

Of my celestial patroness, who deigns 
Her nightly visitation unimplor'd, 
And dictates to me slumbering, or inspires 
Easy my unpremeditated verse : 
Since first this subject for heroic song 25 

PleasM me, long choosing and beginning late ; 
Not sedulous by nature to indite 

n toorM] Atteibiiiy proposed reading 

'That brought into this wotld (a worid of woey 
but such is not Milton's manner, 
n a toorU ^f tooe] See Davison's Poetical Rhapsody, iL 178. ed. 


< a private hell, a very world of woe.' 


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BOOK IX. 279 

Wars, hitherto the only ai^ament 

Heroic deem'd, chief mastery to dissect 

With long and tedious havock fabled knights so 

In battles feignM ; the better fortitude 

Of patience and heroic martyrdom 

Unsung ; or to describe races and games, 

Or tilting furniture, emblazon'd shields, 

Impresses quaint, caparisons and steeds ; S5 

Bases and tinsel trappings, gorgeous knights 

At joust and tournament ; then marshal'd feast 

Senr'd up in hall with sewers, and seneshals ; 

The skill of artifice or office mean, 

Not that which justly ^ves heroic name 40 

To person or to poem. Me of these 

I^or skill'd nor studious higher argument 

Remains, sufficient of itself to raise 

That name, unless an age too late, or cold 

Climate, or years, damp my intended wing . 45 

Depressed, and much they may, if all be mine. 

Not hers who brings it nightly to my ear. 

The sun was sunk, and after him the star 
Of Hesperus, whose office is to bring ^ 

Twilight upon the earth, short arbiter 50 

^ of these] The coiiBtiiiction adopted by Milton oocon in Hainng- 
ton'a Ariosto, c. iy. st 42. 

' Ab holy men ^hnmane mannezs skSPdJ Todd, 
tf years] Gnat, wvaty wan, clime, or say, yean. BerUL M& 
^ arbiier] Sydney, in hie Arcadia, calk the Bon, abont the time 
of the Equinox, 

( An indifferent oMUr between the mgkt cmd fhe day,^ 

Digitized by VjOOQIC 


Twist day and night, and now from end to end 
Night's hemisphere had veil'd the horizon round : 
When Satan who late fled before the threats 
Of Gabriel out of Eden, now improved 
In meditated fraud and malice, bent 55 

On man's destruction, maugre what might hap 
Of heavier on himself, fearless retum'd. 
By night he fled,. and at midnight retum'd 
From compassing the earth, cautious of day, 
Since Uriel regent of the sun descry 'd 60 

His entrance, and forewam'd the cherubim 
That kept their watch ; thence full of anguish driven. 
The space of seven continu'd nights he rode 
With darkness, thrice the equinoctial line 
-yL. He circled, four times cross'd the car of night 65 
From pole to pole, traversing each colure ; 
On the eighth retum'd, and on the coast averse 
From entrance or cherubic watch by stealth 
Found unsuspected way. There was a place. 
Now not, though sin, not time, first wrought the 
change, 70 

Where Tigris at the foot of paradise 
Into a gulf shot under ground, till part 
Rose up a fountain by the Tree of Life : 
In with the river sunk, and with it rose 

» eampa$aing] Sylv. Dn Baztas, p. 896, of Selan, 
'I come, said he, from walMsg in, and out, 
And compassing the earthlie ball about' TiM> 

« eoiure] See Liale's Du Baitas, p. 155, 

* The second is, and callM the nigh equall colure.* 


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BOOK IX. 881 

Satan inyolv'd in rising mist, then sought 75 

Where to lie hid ; sea h^ had searched and land 
From Eden over Pontus, and the pool 
MaBOtis, up beyond the river Ob , 
Downward as far Antarctick ; and in length 
West from Or<Mites to. the ocean barr'd. so 

At Darien ; thence to the land where flows 
Ganges and Indus : thus the orb he roamM 
With narrow search ; and with inspection deep 
Considered every creature, which of all 
Most opportune might serve his wiles, and found 85 
The serpent subtlest beast of all the field. 
Him after long debate, irresolute 
Of thoughts revolv'd, his final sentence chose 
Fit vessel, fittest imp of firaud, in whom 
To enter, and his dark suggestions hide 90 

From sharpest sight : for in the wily snake 
Whatever sleights none would suspicious, mark, 
As from his wit and native subtilty 
Broceeding, which in other beasts observed 
Doubt might beget of diabolic power 96 

Active within beyond the sense of brute. 
Thus he resolved, but first from inward grief 
His bursting pas»on into plaints thus pour'd. 
O earth, how like to heaven, if not preferred 

75 mut] Horn. D. i. 359, dvidv Ttoh^g dXog, ifii* 6fM'X^9 and Hymn 
Mercur. v. 141. JVewton. 

80 OrorUes] Euphratee. BenU^MS. 

99 earth] Conault Hejlk^B note on thk pnam^e ; who conaden 
that there is an inconsistency between this speech of Satan and b, 
iii. 566. 

VOL. I. 36 . 


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More justly, seat worthier of gods, as built lOo 

With second thoughts, reforQiing what was old ! 

For what God, after better, worse would build ? 

Terrestrial heaven, danc'd round by other heavens 

That shine, yet bear their bright officious lamps, 

Light above light, for thee alone, as seems, 105 

In thee concentring all their precious beams 

Of sacred influence. As God in heaven 

Is centre, yet extends to all, so thou 

Centring receiv'st from all those orbs : in thee, 

Not in themselves, all their known virtue appears no 

Productive in herb, plant, and nobler birth 

Of creatures animate with gradual life 

Of growth, sense, reason, all summ'd up in man. 

With what delight could I have walk'd thee round. 

If I could joy in aught, sweet interchange lis 

Of hill and valley, rivers, woods, and plains. 

Now land, now sea, and shores with forest crown'd, 

Rocks, dens, and caves ! but I in none of these 

Find place or refuge ; and the more I see 

Pleasures about me, so much more I feel lao 

Torment within me, as from the hateful siege 

Of contraries ; all good to me becomes 

Bane, and in heaven much worse would be my state. 

But neither here seek I, no nor in heaven 

To dwell, unless by mastering heaven's Supreme ; 

Nor hope to be myself less miserable lae 

By what I seek, but others to make such 

As I, though thereby worse to me redound : 

For only in destroying I find ease 


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BOOK IX. 283 

To my relentless thoughts ; and him destroyed, iso 

Or won to what may work his utter loss, 

For whom all this was made, all this will soon 

Follow, as to him link'd in weal or woe ; 

In woe then ; that destruction wide may range. 

To me shall be the glory sole among 135 

The infernal powers, in one day to have marrM 

What he, Almighty styPd, six nights and days 

Continu'd making, and who knows how long 

Before had been contriving, though perhaps 

Not longer than since I in one night freed 140 

From servitude inglorious well nigh half 

Th' angelic name, and thinner left the throng 

Of his adorers. He to be aveng'd, 

And to repair his numbers thus impair'd, 

Whether such virtue spent of old now failed 145 

More angels to create, if they at least 

Are his created, or to spite us more. 

Determined to advance into our room 

A. creature form'd of earth, and him endow, 

Exalted from so base original, ]50 

With heavenly spoils, our spoils : what he decreed 

H^ effected ; man he made, and for him built 

Magnificent this world, and earth his seat. 

Him lord pronounc'd, and, O indignity ! 

Subjected to his service angel wings, 155 

And flaming ministers, to watch and tend 

^^ kim] Milton sometimes uses the oblique case for the case ab- 
solute: so b. yiL 142, ^tu dispossessed :' Sams. Ag. 463, <me over- 
thrown :' and see Jortin's note, 312. 


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Their earthy charge. Of these the vigilance 
I dread, and to elude, thus wrapp'd in mist 
Of midnight vapour, glide obsciure, and pry 
In every bush and brake, where hap may find ^ leo 
The serpent sleeping, in whose mazy folds 
To hide me, and the dark intent I bring. 
O foul descent! that I, who erst contended 
With gods to sit the highest, am now constrained 
Into a beast, and mix'd with bestial slime, 165 

This essence to incarnate and imbrute. 
That to the highth of deity aspirM ; 
But what will not ambition and revenge 
Descend to ? who aspires must down as low 
As high he soar'd, obnoxious first or last i9o 

To basest things. Revenge, at first though sweet, 
Bitter ere long back on itself recoils: 
Let it ; I reck not, so it light well aim'd, 
Since higher I fall short, on him who next 
Provokes my envy, this new favourite 176 

Of heaven, this man of clay, son of despite, ' • 
Whom us the more to spite his maker rais'd 
From dust : spite then with spite is best repaid. 
So saying, through each thicket dank or dry. 
Like a black mist low creeping, he held on iso 

His midnight search, where soonest he might find 
The serpent : him fast sleeping soon he found, 
In labyrinth of many a round self-roUM, 

^ ekatge] v. 1 Corinth. 15. BenU. M8. 
ITO spite] iEflch. Prom, 944. 

O^katg ipQl};8iv'Tdvs ^^Qlt^ovtag xQ^^v. Richardson, 


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His liead the nudst, well stor'd with subtil wiles : 
Not yet in horrid shade or dismal den, 186 

Nor nocent yet, but on the grassy herb, 
Fearless unfear'd he slept. In at his mouth 
The devil enter'd, and his brutal sense, 
In heart or head, possessing soon inspir'd 
With act intelligendal ; but his sleep 190 

Disturb'd not, waiting close th' approach of mom. 

Now, when as sacred light began to dawn 
In Eden on the humid flowers, that breath'd 
Their morning incense, when all things that breathe 
From th' earth's great altar send up silent praise i96 
To the Creator, and his nostrils fill 
With gratefiil smell, forth came the human pair. 
And join'd their Tocal worship to the quire 
Of creatures wanting voice ; that done, partake 
The season, prime for sweetest scents and airs : sm 
Then commune, how that day they best may ply 
Their growing work ; for much their work outgrew 
The hands despatch of two gardening so wide. 
And Eve first to her husband thus began. 

Adam, well may we labour still to dress 206 

This garden, still to tend plant, herb, and flow'r. 
Our pleasant task enjoin'd ; but till more hands 
Aid us, the work under our labour grows,. . 
Luxurious by restraint ; what we by day 
Lop overgrown, or prune, or prop, or bind, jmo 

^ Mr naemt] So the second and subsequent editions. In the 
first it is ^JVbl nocent yet' JSTetotcn, 
i» graasy herb] Virg. Eel. v. ?26, ^gruninis herbam.' ATewUm. 


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One night or two with wanton growth derides, 
Tending to wild. Thou therefore now advise, 
Or hear what to my mind first thoughts present ; 
Let us divide our labours, thou where choice 
Leads thee, or where most needs, whether to wind 
The woodbine round this arbour, or direct 8i6 

The clasping ivy where to climb, while I 
In yonder spring of roses intermix'd 
With myrtle find what to redress till noon : 
For while so near each other thus all day 220 

Our task we choose, what wonder if so near 
Looks intervene and smiles, or object new 
Casual discourse draw on ; which intermits 
Our day's work, brought to little, though begun 
Early, and th' hour of supper comes unearned. 295 

To whom mild answer Adam thus returned. 
Sole Eve, associate sole, to me beyond 
Compare above all living creatures dear, 
Well hast thou motion'd, well thy thoughts employed, 
How we might best fulfill the work which here 290 
God hath assigned us, nor of me shall pass 
Unprais'd ; for nothing lovelier can be found 
In woman, than to study household good. 
And good works in her husband to promote. 
Yet not so strictly hath our Lord imposed 235 

U3 huw] < Or bear' in the second e<L ' Or hear* in the first No 
other editions vary. 
^8 spring of roses] See Henick's Poems, p. 392; 

« Where a spring 

Of roses have an endless flourishing.' 
A spring is * a small thicket or coppice.' 


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BOOK IX. 287 

Labour, as to debar us when we need 

Refreshment, whether food, or talk. between, 

Food of the mind, or this sweet intercourse 

Of looks and smiles ; for smiles from reason flow, 

To brute denjM, and are of love the food, aw 

Love not the lowest end of human life. 

For not to irksome toil, but to delight, 

He made us, and delight to reason joinM. 

These paths and bowers doubt not but our joint hands 

Will keep from wilderness with ease, as vidde MS 

As we need walk, till younger hands ere long 

Assist us : but if much converse perhaps 

Thee satiate, to short absence I could yield : 

For solitude sometimes is best society. 

And short retirement urges sweet return, 9Bo 

But other doubt possesses me, lest harm 

Befall thee severed from me ; for thou know'st 

What hath been warn'd us, what malicious foe 

Envying our happiness, and of his own 

Despairing, seeks to work us woe and shame sss 

By sly assault ; and somewhere nig}i at hand 

Watches, no doubt, with greedy hope to find 

His wish and best advantage, us asundei; 

Hopeless to circumvent us join'd, where each 

To other speedy aid might lend at need : 960 

Whether his first design be to withdraw 

944 These] So in all the early editions till tiiat of Tonson, 1711» 
which reads < The paths,' a mistake followed by Tickell, Fenton, 
and Bentley. Todd. 

948 pQr^ Tiiig line is an Alesondnne. 




Our fealtf from God, or to disturb 
Conjugal lore, than which perhaps no bliss 
Enjoy'd by us excites his envy more ; 
Or this, m worse, leave not the faithful side 365 
That gave thee being, still shades thee and protects. 
The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks, 
Safest and seemliest by her husband stays, 
Who guards her, or with her the worst endures. 

To whom the virgin msyesty of Eve, sro 

As one who loves, and some unkindness meets, 
With sweet austere composure thus reply'd. 

Offsprmg of heaven and earth, and all earth's lord, 
That such an enemy we have, who seeks 
Our ruin, both by thee informed I leam, S76 

And from the parting angel overheard, 
As in a shady nook I stood behind. 
Just then retum'd at shut of evening flowers. 
But that thou shouldst my firmness therefore doubt 
To God or thee, because we have a foe 280 

May tempt it, I expected not to hear. 
His violence thou fear'st not, being such. 
As we, not capable of death or pain. 
Can either not receive, or can repel. 
His fraud is then thy fear, which plain infers 9B5 
Thy equal fear, that my firm faith and love 

^^ virgin] Virg. EcL yi. 47, calls Pasiphlle virgin, after she had 
three children. Ovid, Hyps. Jas. 133, calls Medea * Adnltera virgo.' 
RichardaofL The word < puella' is used with the same latitude. On 
this expressioii see Valcknaer ad Catulli £pig. CaUimach. p. 183, 
Virgo Intacta, pro Muliere viitim passa, sed Casta. Scfarader ad 
MusBum, p. a04. Theocr. Idyll, ii. 136. 


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BOOK IX. 289 

Can by his fraud be shaken or seduc'd : 

Thoughts, which how found they harbour in thy 

Adam, misthought of her to thee so dear ? ^ 

To whom with healing words Adam reply'd. 890 
Daughter of God and man, immortal Eve, 
For such thou art, from sin and blame entire : 
Not diffident of thee do I dissuade 
Thy absence from my sight, but to avoid 
Th' attempt itself, intended by our foe : 996 

For he who tempts, though in vain, at least asperses 
The tempted with dishonour foul, supposed 
Not incorruptible of faith, not proof 
Against temptation. Thou thyself with scorn 
And anger wouldst resent the offer'd wrong, boo 

Though ineffectual found : misdeem not then, 
If such affront I labour to avert 
From thee alone, which on us both at once 
The enemy, though bold, will hardly dare, 
Or daring, first on me th'. assault shall light. d05 

Nor thou his malice and false guile contemn ; 
Subtle he needs must be, who could seduce 
Angels, nor think superfluous others aid. 
I from the influence of thy looks receive 
Access in every virtue, in thy sight sio 

More wise, more watchful, stronger, if need were 
Of outward strength ; while shame, thou looking on, 
Shame to be overcome or over-reach'd, 
Would utmost vigour raise, and rais'd unite. 
Why shouldst not thou like sense within thee feel 

VOL. 1. 37 


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When I am present, and thy trial choose 3i6 

With me, best witness of thy virtue try'd ? 

So spake domestic Adam in his care 
And matrimonial love ; but Eve, who thought 
Less attributed to her faith sincere, aao 

Thus her reply with accent sweet renewed. 

If this be our condition, thus to dwell 
In narrow circuit straiten'd by a foe, 
Subtle or violent, we not endu'd 
Single with like defence, wherever met, 325 

How are we happy, still in fear of harm ? 
But harm precedes not sin : only our foe 
Tempting affronts us with his foul esteem 
Of our integrity : his foul esteem 
Sticks no dishonour on our front, but turns 3do 

Foul on himself; then wherefore shunn'd or fear'd 
By us ? who rather double honour gain 
From his surmise prov'd false, find peace within, 
Favour from heaven, our witness, from th' event 
And what is faith, love, virtue, unassay'd 335 

Alone, without exterior help sustained ? 
Let us not then suspect our happy state 
Left so imperfect by the Maker wise, 
As not secure to single or combined. 
Frail is our happiness, if this be so, 340 

And Eden were no Eden thus expos'd. 

To whom thus Adam fervently rqply'd. 
O woman, best are all things as the will 

316 ihy] Fenton reads <Me trial.' 


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BOOK IX. 291 

Of God ordain'd them ; his creating hand 
Nothing imperfect or deficient left 345 

Of all that he created, much less man, 
Or aught that might his happy state secure, 
Secure from outward force ; within himself 
^ The danger lies, yet lies within his power : 
Against his will he can receive no harm. 350 

But God left free the will, for what obeys 
Reason is free, and reason he made right ; 
But bid her well beware, and still erect, 
Lest by some fair appearing good surpriz'd 
She dictate. false, and misinform the will 365 

To do what God expressly hath forbid. 
Not then mistrust, but tender love enjoins. 
That I should mind thee oft, and mind thou me. 
Firm we subsist, yet possible to swerve, 
Since reason not impossibly may meet 360 

Some specious object by the foe suborn'd. 
And fall into deception unaware. 
Not keeping strictest watch, as she was wam'd. 
Seek not temptation then, which to avoid 
Were better, and most likely, if from me 305 

Thou sever not : trial will come unsought. 
Wouldst thou approve thy constancy, approve 
Fir^t thy obedience ; th' other who can know, 
Not seeing thee attempted, who attest ? 
But if thou think trial unsought may find 370 

Us both securer than thus warn'd thou seem'st. 
Go ; for thy stay, not free, absents thee more ; 
Go in thy native innocence, rely 


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On what thou hast of virtue, summon all. 

For God towards thee hath done his part, do thine. 

So spake the patriarch of mankind, but Eve 376 
Persisted, jet submiss, though last, replj'd. 

With thy permission then, and thus forewarned, 
Chiefly by what thy own last reasoning words 
Touch'd only, that our trial, when least sought, 38o 
May find us both perhaps far less prepared. 
The willinger I go, nor much expect 
A foe so proud will first the weaker seek ; 
So bent, the more shall shame him his repulse. 

Thus saying, firom her husband's hand her hand 
. Soft she withdrew ; and like a wood-nymph light 386 
Oread or Dryad, or of Delia's train, 
Betook her to the groves, but Delia's self 
In gait surpassed and goddess-like deport, 
Though not as she with bow and quiver arm'd qoo 
But with such gardening tools as art, yet rude, 
Guiltless of fire had form'd, or angels brought. 
To Pales, or Pomona, thus adom'd, 
Likest she seem'd Pomona when she fled 
Vertumnus, or to Ceres in her prime, 395 

Yet virgin of Proserpina from Jove. 

3M Likest] So in Milton's first e<L ; in the second, by mistake, it 
is printed < Likeliest' JSTewtan. 

3M jUd] Not when Pomona fled Vertumnus, but when she had her 
tools. BenU. MS. 

3W virgin] TWs expression, * Virgin of Proserpina,' howevCT 
violent or uncommon it may be, is doubtless that which Milton gave. 
1 once conjectured that it might have been written ' or,' as I do not 
think Peaice's objection of force. Proserpine certainly, fee he iays, 


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Her long with ardent look his eye pursu'd 

Delighted, but desiring more her stay : 

Oft he to her his charge of quick return 

Repeated, she to him as oft engag'd 400 

To be retum'd by noon amid the bow'r, 

And all things in best order to invite 

Noontide repast, or afternoon's repose. 

O much deceived, much failing, hapless Eve, 

Of thy presum'd return ! event perverse ! 405 

Thou never from that hour in paradise 

Found'st either sweet repast, or sound repose ; 

Such ambush hid among sweet flowers and shades 

Waited with hellish rancor imminent 

To intercept thy way, or send thee back 4W 

DespoU'd of innocence, of faith, of bliss. 

For now, and since first break of dawn the fiend, 

Mere serpent in appearance, forth was come, 

And on his quest, where likeliest he might find 

The only two of mankind, but in them 4i5 

* had nothing to do with husbandly or gacdening f but, like Eve, ahe 
was gathering flowers, an employment sufficiently similar for a 
poetical comparison ; but I think Milton would not have resembled 
£ve to both the mother and the daugiiter; his active imagination, 
and learned memory, would have supplied him with fmother name : — 
and this idiom, though uncommon, is in Milton's manner : it is con- 
sidered 'noble' by Lord Monboddo, and < elegant' by Warburton; 
besides, ' Proserpina fix)m Jove' would be a construction more violent 
than the one admitted. 

^M Md] In Tonson's ed. 1711, it is printed 
< Soqh ambush laid,' 
which reading has been followed by Tickell, Fenton, and Bentiey. 
Newton restored the genuine reading * hid.' Todd. 


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The whole included race, his purposed prey. 
In bow^r and field he sought, where any tuft 
Of grove or garden-plot more pleasant lay, 
Their tendance or plantation for delight ; 
By fountain or by shady rivulet 420 

He sought them both, but wish'd his hap might find 
Eye separate ; he wish'd, but not with hope 
Of what so seldom chanc'd, when to his wish. 
Beyond his hope, Eve separate he spies. 
Veiled in a cloud of fragrance, where she stood, 425 
Half spy'd, so thick the roses bushing round 
About her glow'd, oft stooping to support 
Each flow'r of slender stalk, whose head though gay 
Carnation, purple, azure, or speckM with gold. 
Hung drooping unsustain'd ; them she upstays 430 
Gently with myrtle band, mindless the while, 
Her self, though fairest unsupported flower. 
From her best prop so far, and storm so nigh. 
Nearer he drew, and many a walk traversed 
Of stateliest covert, cedar, pine, or palm, 435 

Then voluble and bold, now hid, now seen 
Among thick-woven arborets and flowers 
Imborder'd on each bank, the hand of Eve : 
Spot more delicious than those gardens feign'd 

4M sq^arate] See Beaumont's Psyche, c. vi. st 215. and A. 
Ramsei Poem. Sacr. 1. p. 26. 

' Incomitata viro, forte uxor sola, per hortum, 
Regali incedit gresso.' 
488 and bM] Voluble in folds. BenU. MS. 
*» hnbordef^d] 'Imborder* is one of those Miltonic words of which 
Johnson takes no notice in his dictionary. Todd, 


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BOOK IX. 295 

Or of revir'd Adonis, or renown'd 440 

Alcinous, host of old Laertes' son. 

Or that, not mystic, where the sapient king 

Held dalliance with his fair Egyptian spouse. 

Much he the place admir'd, the person more« 

As one who long in populous city pent 445 

Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air, 

Forth issuing on a summer's morn to breathe 

Among the pleasant villages and farms 

Adjoin'd, from each thing met conceives delight ; 

The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine, 460 

Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound ; 

If chance with nymph-like step fair virgin pass, 

What pleasing seem'd, for her now pleases more. 

She most, and in her look sums all delight : 

Such pleasure took the serpent to behold 455 

This flowery plat, the sweet recess of Eve 

Thus early, thus alone : her heavenly form 

Angelic, but more soft and feminine. 

Her graceful innocence, her every air 

Of gesture or least action, over-aw'd -m 

His malice, and with rapine sweet bereav'd 

His fierceness of the fierce intent it brought. 

That space the evil one abstracted stood 

From his own evil, and for the time remained 

^^ populous] See Sylvester Dubaitaa. p. 40. 

454 She mast] So Petrarch, de Remed. Ut Fortunes. iL 96. * JNon 
videbis amodo frondosas vidles, aereos montes, floreoe cespites, um- 
brosos Bpecus, lucidos fontes, va^ flumina, prata virentia, quodqut 
pvkherrimum visu dicunij humani oris effigiem.' 


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Stupidly good, of enmity disarm'd, 405 

Of guile, of hate, of envy, of revenge ; 
But the hot hell that always in him burns, 
Though in mid heaven, soon ended his delight. 
And tortures him now more, the more he sees 
Of pleasure not for him ordain'd : then soon 470 
Fierce hate he recollects, and all his thoughts 
Of mischief, gratulating, thus excites. 

Thoughts whither have ye led me ! with what 
Compulsion thus transported to forget 
What hither brought us! hate, not love; nor hope 475 
Of paradise for hell, hope here to taste 
Of pleasure; but all pleasure to destroy 
Save what is in destroying; other joy 
To me is lost. Then let me not let pass 
Occasion which now smiles ; behold alone 480 

The woman opportune to all attempts, 
Her husband, for I view far round, not nigh. 
Whose higher intellectual more I shun. 
And strength, of courage haughty, and of limb 
Heroic built, though of terrestrial mould ; 4S5 

Foe not informidable, exempt from wound, 
I not : so much hath hell debas'd, and pain 
Infeebled me, to what I was in heaven. 
She fair, divinely fair, fit love for gods. 
Not terrible, though terror be in love, 490 

And beauty, not approach'd by stronger hate. 
Hate stronger under show of love well feign'd ; 
The way which to her ruin now I tend. 


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BOOK IX. 897 

So spake the enemy of mankind, enclosed 
In serpent, inmate bad, and toward Eve 496 

Address'd his way, not with indented wave. 
Prone on the ground, as since, but on. his rear, 
Circular base of rising folds, that tower'd 
Fold above fold a surging maze! his head 
Crested aloft, and carbuncle his eyes ; soo 

With burnish'd neck of verdant gold, erect 
Amidst his circling spires, that on the grass 
Floated redundant : pleasing was his shape. 
And lovely; never since of serpent kind 
Lovelier, not those that in lUyria chang'd 606 

Hermione and Cadmus, or the god 
In Epidaurus ; nor to which transform'd 
Ammonian Jove or Capitoline was seen ; 
He with Olympias, this with her who bore 

4M indented] v. Dionys. Perig. ver. 123. 

Jig de d(^xfap ^loavgomog illaasta^ ikyx^g liqmmf, JL Dyot, 

^M tMEoe] So Arati Phsnomena. 45. 

TdLg dh dl d/aqforii^gy aUrj nora fuXo Atw^^^, 
'EiXeXzaif fidya davfiOy dq^ntaif. 

^^ on his rtar] See Ovidii Metam. lib. xv. ver. 673. 
* Pectoribusque tenns media sublimis in ede 
Conatitit ; atque oculos circumtulit igne znicantes V 

4^ tawet^d] Very similar is the description of the Serpent in the 
Adamus Exsul of Grotius. p. 38. 

* Oculi ardent duo, 

Adrecta cervix surgit, et maculis nitet 
Pectus superbis. Caerulis picti notis 
Sinuantur orbes, tortiles spire micant 
Ami colore, lubricum longos sinus 
Tendit volumen, terga se in g3rru8 plicanL* 
502 ctrcling] Coiling. Curling. 517. BenU. MS. 
VOL. I. 38 


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Scipio the highth of Rome. With tract oblique 5io 

At first, as one who sought access, but fear'd 

To interrupt, side-long he works his way. 

As when a ship by skilful steersman wrought 

Nigh river's mouth or foreland; where the wind 

Veers oft, as oft so steers, and shifts her sail ; 5i5 

So vary'd he, and of his tortuous train 

CurPd many a wanton wreath in sight of Eve, 

To lure her eye ; she busied heard the sound 

Of rustling leaves, but minded not, as us'd 

To such disport before her through the field, 620. 

From every beast, more duteous at her call,. 

Than at Circean call the herd disguis'd. 

He bolder now uncall'd before her stood ; 

But as in gaze admiring : oft he bow'd 

His turret crest, and sleek enamePd neck, 6% 

Fawning, and lick'd the ground whereon she trod. 

8tt herd] See Ov. Met xiv. 45. 

* perque ferarum 

Agmen aduUmidm media procedit ab auUL' Todd, 
AM haw'd] See Beaumont's Psyche, c. vL st 237. 
* Thrice did he bow his flattering neck, and thrice 
His silent homage he presented her.' 
So Grotii Adam. Exsul. p. 38. 

< Nunc se reclinat flexile in coUum caput' 
M5 crtsf] See Dante n Purgator. canto viii. v. 99. 
< Tra V erba e i fior venik la mala striscia, 
Volgendo ad or ad or la testa, e 1 dosso 
Leccando, come bestia che si liscia.' 
^^ licked] A. Ramsffii Poem. Sacr. 1. p. 27. 

' nii adversa ferens vestigia tortilis anguis, 
Ut molles aditus, et commoda tempera novit, 
Ante pedes prono se vultu stemit heriles 
Adlambensque imas plantas, sic callidus infit' 


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BOOK IX. 299 

His gentle dumb expression turn'd at length 
The eye of Eve to mark his play ; he glad 
Of her attention gain'd, with serpent tongue 
Organic, or impulse of vocal air, 530 

His fraudulent temptation thus began. 

Wonder not, sovereign mistress, if perhaps 
Thou canst, vt^ho art sole vt^onder; much less arm 
Thy looks, the heaven of mildness, with disdain, 
Displeas'd that I approach thee thus, and gaze 536 
Insatiate, I thus single, nor have fear'd 
Thy awful brow, more awful thus retirM. 
Fairest resemblance of thy Maker fair. 
Thee all things living gaze on, all things thine 
By gift, and thy celestial beauty adore 540 

With ravishment beheld! there best beheld 
Where universally admir'd : but here 
In this enclosure wild, these beasts among, 
Beholders rude, and shallow to discern 
Half what in thee is fair, one man except, 545 

Who sees thee ? and what is one ? who shouldst be 

A goddess among gods, ador'd and serv'd 
By angels numberless, thy daily train. 

So gloz'd the tempter, and his proem tun'd ; 
Into the heart of Eve his words made way, 550 

Though at the voice much marvelling : at length 
Not unamaz'd she thus in answer spake. 
What may this mean ? Language of man pronounc'd 
By tongue of brute, and human sense expressed ? 
The first at least of these I thought deny'd 555 


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To beasts^ whom God on their creation-day 

Created mute to all articulate sound ; 

The latter I demur, for in their looks 

Much reason, and in their actions, oft appears. 

Thee, serpent, subtlest beast of all the field 5Go 

I knew, but not with human voice endu'd ; 

Redouble then this miracle, and say, 

How cam'st thou speakable of mute, and how 

To me so friendly grown above the rest 

Of brutal kind, that daily are in sight ? 565 

Say, for such wonder claims attention due. 

To whom the guileful tempter thus reply'd. 
Empress of this fair world, resplendent Eve, 
Easy to me it is to tell thee all 
What thou oommand'st, and right thou shouldst be 
obey'd. - 570 

I was at first as other beasts that graze 
The trodden herb, of al^ect thoughts and low, 
As was my food, nor aught but food discern'd 
Or sex, and apprehended nothing high : 
Till on a day roving the field, I chanc'd 675 

A goodly tree far distant to behold 
Loaden with fruit of fairest colours mixt. 
Ruddy and gold : I nearer drew to gaze ; 
When from the boughs a savoury odour blown, 
Grateful to appetite, more pleas'd my sense 580 
Than smell of sweetest fennel, or the teats 

2^ resplendenl] Transcendent BenU. MS, 
«i fernid] See Prose Works, L p. 239. 'That gave him to see 
dealer than any/ewu^mU'e^ serpent.^ 


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BOOK IX. aoi 

Of ewe or goat dropping with milk at ev'n, 

Unsuck'd of lamb or kid, that tend their play. 

To satisfy the sharp desire I had 

Of tasting those fair apples, I resolv'd 685 

Not to defer ; hunger and thirst at once, 

Powerful persuaders, quicken'd at the scent 

Of that alluring fruit, urg'd me so keen. 

About the mossy trunk 1 wound me soon, 

For high from ground the branches would require 

Thy utmost reach or Adam's : round the tree 

All other beasts that saw with like desire, 

Longing and envying, stood, but could not reach. 

Amid the tree now got, where plenty hung 

Tempting so nigh, to pluck and eat my fill 695 

I spar'd not, for such pleasure till that hour 

At feed or fountain never had 1 found. 

Sated at length, ere long 1 might perceive 

Strange alteration in me, to degree 

Of reason in my inward powers, and speech 6oo 

Wanted not long, though to this shape retained. 

Thenceforth to speculations high or deep 

I tum'd my thoughts, and with capacious mind 

Considered all things visible in heaven. 

Or earth, or middle, aU things fair and good ; 605 

But all that fair and good in thy divine 

Semblance and in thy beauty's heavenly ray 

United I beheld ; no fair to thine 

Equivalent or second, which compelPd 

Me thus, though importune perh'kps, to come 6io 


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And gaze, and worship thee of right declared 
Sov'reign of creatures, universal dame. 

So talk'd the spirited sly snake ; and Eve 
Yet more amaz'd unwary thus reply'd. 

Serpent, thy overpraising leaves in doubt 615 

The virtue of that fruit, in thee first prov'd : 
But say, where grows the tree ? from hence how far ? 
For many are the trees of God that grow 
In paradise, and various, yet unknown 
To us; in such abundance lies our choice, 620 

As leaves a greater store of fruit untouch'd, 
Still hanging incorruptible, till men 
Grow up to their provision, and more hands 
Help to disburden nature of her birth. 

To whom the wily adder, blithe and glad. 695 
Empress, the way is ready, and not long. 
Beyond a row of myrtles, on a flat. 
Fast by a fountain, one small thicket past 
Of blowing myrrh and balm : if thou accept 
My conduct, I can bring thee thither soon. 69o 

Lead then, said Eve. He leading swifdy rolPd 
In tangles, and made intricate seem straight. 
To mischief swift : hope elevates, and joy 
Brightens his crest : as when a wand'ring fire 
Compact of unctuous^ vapour, which the night 635 
Condenses, and the cold environs round, 

«9 m^^ and btdm] A. Ramssi Poem. Sect. L 28. 

* Quid memorem Zephyri spirantia flamina stacten ? 
Et mynfae lacr^bas, stUlantes volnere matriB ? 


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BOOK IX. 303 

Kindled through agitation to a flame. 
Which oft, they say, some evil spirit attends. 
Hovering and blazing with delusive light, 
Misleads th' amaz'd night-wanderer from his way 640 
To bogs and mires, and oft through pond or pool. 
There swallow'd up and lost, from succour far : 
So glister'd the dire snake, and into fraud 
Led Eve our credulous mother, to the tree 
Of prohibition, root of all our woe : 645 

Which when she saw, thus to her guide she spake. 

Serpent, we might have spar'd our coming hither. 
Fruitless to me, though fruit be here to excess, 
The credit of whose virtue rest with thee ; 
Wond'rous indeed, if cause of such effects. 65o 

But of this tree we may not taste nor touch, 
God so commanded ; and left that command 
Sole daughter of his voice ; the rest, we live 
Law to our selves ; our reason is our law. 

To whom the tempter guilefully reply'd. 655 

Indeed ? hath God then said that of the fruit 
Of all these garden trees ye shall not eat, 
Yet lords declared of all in earth or air ? 

To whom thus Eve vet 3inless. Of the fruit 
Of each tree in the garaen we may eat, 6C0 

But of the fruit of this fair tree amidst 

MO MsleadsySo Mids. N. Dream, act ii. sc. 1. 

' Misleads night wanderers^ laughing at their harm.' Todd, 
W3 fraud] * Fraud' signifies hurt, damage. Virg. Mn. x. 72. 
* Quis deus in firaudem, quie dura potentia nostra 
Egit?' MwUm. 




The garden, God hath said, Ye shall not eat 
Thereof, nor shall ye touch it, lest ye die. ^{^ 

She scarce had said, though brief, when now more 
The tempter, but with show of zead and love 665 
To man, and indignation at his wrong. 
New part puts on, and, as to passion mov'd. 
Fluctuates disturb'd, yet comely, and in act 
Rais'd, as of some great matter to begin. 
As when of old some orator renown'd 670 

In Athens or free Rome, where eloquence 
Flourished, since mute, to some great cause address'd, 
Stood in himself collected, while each part. 
Motion, each act won audience ere the tongue ; 
Sometimes in highth began, as no delay 675 

Of preface brooking through his zeal of right : 
So standing, moving, or to highth upgrown, 
The tempter all impassicMi'd thus began. 

O sacred, wise, and wisdom-giving plant, 
Mother of science! now I feel thy power eso 

Within me clear^ not only to discern 
Things in their causes, but to trace the ways 
Of highest agents, deem'd however wise. 
Queen of this universe, do not believe 
Those rigid threats of death ; ye shall not die : ess 
How should ye ? by the fruit ? it gives you life 

<^ How] In Milton's own edition the passage is thus improperly 


How should ye ? by the fruit ? it gives you life 
To knowledge ? by the threatener, look on me. 

Tickell follows Tonson*s early editions in retaining the note of 


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BOOK IX. ao6 

To knowledge : by the threatener ? look on mC) 
Me who have touch'd and tasted, yet both live, 
And life more perfect have attain'd than fate 
Meant me, by venturing higher than my lot. 690 

Shall that be shut to man, which to the beast 
Is open ? or will God incense his ire 
For such a petty trespass, and not praise 
Rather your dauntless virtue, whom the pain 
Of death denounced, whatever thing death be, e96 
Deterr'd not from achieving what might lead 
To happier life, knowledge of good and evil ? 
Of good, how just ? of evil, if what is evil 
Be real, why not known, since easier shunn'd ? 
God therefore cannot hurt ye, and be just ; too 

Not just, not God ; not fear'd then, nor obey'd : 
Your fear itself of death removes the fear. 
Why then was this forbid ? Why but to awe, 
Why but to keep ye low and ignorant, 
His worshippers ; he knows that in the day 705 
Ye eat thereof, your eyes that seem so clear, 
Yet are but dim, shall perfectly be then 
Open'd and clear'd, and ye shall be as gods, 
Knowing both good and evil as they know. 
That ye should be as gods, since I as man, 7io 
Internal man, is hut proportion meet; 
I, of brute, human ; ye of human, gods. 
So ye shall die perhaps, by putting off 

interrogation after knowledge, but in supplying another after < threat- 
ener.' Fenton corrected the error, and he has been since foQowed. 
VOL. I. 39 


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Human, to put on gods ; death to be wish'd, 
Though threatened, which no worse than this can 
brmg. 715 

And what are gods that man may not become 
As they, participating godlike food ? 
The gods are first, and that advantage use 
On our belief, that all from them proceeds ; 
I question it, for this fair earth I see, 720 

Warm'd by the sun, producing every ]pnd. 
Them nothing : if they all things, who enclosed 
Knowledge of good and evil in this tree. 
That whoso eats thereof forthwith attains 
Wisdom without their leave ? and wherem lies 725 
Th' offence, that man should thus attain to know ? 
What can your knowledge hurt him, or this tree 
Impart against his will if all be his ? 
Or is it envy; and can envy dwell 
In heavenly breasts ? these, these and many more 730 
Causes import your need of this fair fruit. 
Goddess humane, reach then, and freely taste. 
He ended, and his words replete with guile 
Into her heart too easy entrance won : 
Fix'd on the fruit she gaz'd, which to behold 735 
Might tempt alone, and in her ears the sound 
Yet rung of his persuasive words, impregn'd 
With reason, to her seeming, and with tiuth : 
Mean while the hour of noon drew on, and wak'd 

7^ hekotd] Grotii Adamus Exsul, p. 9. , 

* Pomi dulcis adspectu color, 

Gustua cupido, quod volo, epondent mihL' 


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BOOK IX. 307 

An eager appetite, rais'd by the smell 740 

So savoury of that fruit, which with desire, 
Inclinable now grown to touch or taste, 
Solicited her longing eye ; yet first 
Pausing a while, thus to herself she mus'd. 

Great are thy virtues, doubtless, best of fruits, 745 
Though kept from man, and worthy to be admir'd, 
Whose taste, too long forborn, at first assay 
Gave elocution to the mute, and taught 
The tongue not made for speech to speak thy praise: 
Thy praise he also who forbids thy use 760 

Conceals not from us, naming thee the Tree 
Of Ejdowledge, knowledge both of good and evil ; 
Forbids us then to taste! but his forbidding 
Commends thee more, while it infers the good 
By thee communicated, and our want : 765 

For good unknown sure is not had; or had 
And yet unknown, is as not had at alL 
In plain then, what forbids he but to know, 
Forbids us good, forbids us to be wise ? 
Such prohibitions bind not. But if death too 

Bind us with after-bands, what profits then 

741 fruU] y. Beaumont's Psyche, vL 252. 

* These chaims still ope the door into the lieort 

Of careless Eve, and thrust their poison in. 
Besides the smiling apples plaid their part, 
And her affections with her eye did win.' 
7tf Crreof] So in the Adamus Exsul of Grotius, Eve addrenes the 
fruit, p. 45. 

* O dulce pomum ! qnam tua hiec species meis 
Adridet oculis ! quam vel olfactus juvat!' 


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Our inward freedom Fin the day we eat 

Of this fair fruit, our doom is, we shall die. 

How dies the serpent ? he hath eaten and lives, 

And knows, and speaks, and reasons, and discerns, 

Irrational till then. For us alone 765 

Was death invented ? or to us denyM 

This intellectual food, for beasts reserved ? 

For beasts it seems : yet that one beast which first 

Hath tasted envies not, but brings with joy 770 

The good befalPn him, author unsuspect, 

Friendly to man, far from deceit or guile. 

What fear I then? rather what know to fear 

Under this ignorance of good and evil, 

Of God or death, of law or penalty ? * 775 

Here grows the cure of all, this fruit divine. 

Fair to the eye, inviting to the taste. 

Of virtue to make wise : what hinders then 

To reach, and feed at once both body and mind ? 

So saying, her rash hand in evil hour tw 

Forth reaching to the fruit, she pluck'd, she eat : 
Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat 

^^ tDound] See Beaumont^B Psyche, c. vi. st 254. 
< Up went her desperate hand, and reach'd away 
All the world's blesse ; whilst she the apple took ; 
When, loe, the earth did move ; the heav'ns did stay, 
BeastB and birds shiver'd ; absent Adam shook.' 
^'BS JVcUure] v. the Sarcotis of Masenius on the same snbject, lib. ii. 
* Natura nefas horrescere visa, 
Pondere tarn gravium coBpit titabaze malonuik* 
Tota anceps Natura stetit' 
< Tellua infecta veneno 


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BOOK UC. 309 

Sighing through all her wcH'ks gave signs of woe, 
That all was lost. Back to the thicket slunk 
The guilty serpent, and well might, for Eve 785 
Intent now wholly on her taste naught else 
Regarded; such delight till then, as seem'd, 
In fruit she never tasted, whether true 
Or fancy'd so, through expectation high 
Of knowledge ; nor was Godhead from her thought. 
Greedily she ingorg'd without restraint, 791 

And knew not eating death : satiate at length, 
And highten'd as with wine, jocond and boon, 
Thus to herself she pleasingly began. 

O sovereign, virtuous, precious of all trees 796 
In paradise! of operation blest 
To sapience, hitherto obscur'd, infam'd, 
And thy fair fruit let hang, as to no end 
Created : but henceforth my early care. 
Not without song, each morning, and due praise 
Shall tend thee, and the fertile burden ease soi 

Of thy full branches offered free to all ; 
Till dieted by thee I grow mature 
In knowledge, as the gods who all things know ; 

784 slunk] So in the AdamuB Ezsul of GrotiuB, p. 47, after the 
success of the temptatioD, Sathan says, 

( Ego ad latebras tacltus abrepam meas.' 
T^ knew na(] A Greek phrase used by the Latins. ▼. Opp. Halioat. 

6v^ irai^vav idv OTtivdovreg SleO^v. Bichardaon, 
7B6 precious] The positiye lor the ffiperlative. Am Virgil, Ma, iv. 

* Sequimur te, $aneU Deorum.' Richardson. 


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Though Others envy what they cannot give ; 806 

For had the gift been theirs, it had not here 

Thus grown. Experience, next to thee I owe, 

Best guide ; not following thee, I had remained 

In ignorance ; thou open'st wisdom's way, 

And giv'st access,, though secret she retire. sio 

And I perhaps am secret ; heaven is high. 

High and remote to see from thence distinct 

Each thing on earth ; and other care perhaps 

May have diverted from continual watch 

Our great Forbidder, safe with all his spies sis 

About him. But to Adam in what sort 

Shall I appear ? shall I to him make known 

As yet my change, and give him to partake 

Full happiness with me, or rather nbt. 

But keep the odds of knowledge in my power sao 

Without copartner ? so to add what vrants 

In female sex, the more to draw his love, 

And render me more equal, and perhaps, 

w Experience] «Thee Serpent' Berdl. MS, 
^^ gwe] Newton has obsenred the beauty of this expression, and 
traced it through the Greek and Latin. See Horn. H L 18. Virg. 
Mil L 65. 79. 533; and before in P. L. i. 736. 

* and gave to rule, 

Each in his hierarchy, the orders bright' 

* O persuavis gustus ! O tenero sapor 
Gratns palato ! quam tuus succus juvat ! 
Quam me beasti ! Restat hoc unum mode, 
Tanti ut maritus particeps fiat boni.' 

OrotU Mam. ExsvL p. 47. 


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BOOK IX. 311 

A thing not undesirable, sometime 

Superior ; for inferior who is free ? 885 

This may be well : but what if God have seen, 

And death ensue ? then I shall be no more, 

And Adam wedded to another Eve 

Shall live with her enjoying, 1 extinct ; 

A death to think. Confirm'd then I resolve, 830 

Adam shall share with me in bliss or woe : 

So dear I love him, that with him all deaths 

I could endure ; without him live no life. 

So saying, from the tree her step she turn'd. 
But first low reverence done, as to the power 836 
That dwelt within, whose presence had infus'd 
Into the plant sciential sap, deriv'd 
From nectar, drink of gods. Adam the while, 
Waiting desirous her return, had wove 
Of choicest iBowers a garland to adorn 840 

Her tresses, and her rural labours crown. 
As reapers oft are wont their harvest queen. 
Great joy he promised to his thoughts, and new 
Solace in her return, so long delayed ; 
Yet oft his heart, divine of something ill, 845 

Misgave him ; he the faltering measure felt ; 

M5 dimne] See Hor. Od, iiL xxviL 10. 

' Imbrimn divina avis imminentiim.' 
and P. L. z. 357. JVewtan. 

8^ faUering measure feU] ^ I consider these words as obscure. 
They must, I presume, be interpreted as meaning, 'That Adam 
secretly felt some symptoms of the great change unpressed on Nature 
by Eve's transgression.' " MS. Diary of Thomas Green, Esq. But 
the clearer explanation, I consider, is, < Adam fdt the faltering (or 


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And forth to meet her went, the way she took 
That morn when first they parted. By the Tree 
Of Knowledge he must pass, there he her met, 
Scarce from the tree returning ; in her hand sso 
A bough of fairest fruit that downy smiPd, 
New gathered, and ambrosial smell diffus'd. 
To him she hasted; in her face excuse 
Came prologue, and apology too prompt ; 654 

Which with bland words at will she thus address'd. 

Hast thou not wonder'd, Adam, at my stay ? 
Thee I have miss'd, and thought it long, depriv'd 
Thy presence, agony of love till now 
Not felt, nor shall be twice, for never more 
Mean I to try, what rash untry'd I sought, 860 

The pain of absence from thy sight* But strange 
Hath been the cause, and wonderful to hear : 
This tree is not, as we are told, a tree 
Of danger tasted, nor to evil unknown 
Op'ning the way, but of divine effect 866 

To open eyes, and make them gods who taste; 
And hath been tasted such. The serpent wise. 
Or not restrain'd as we, or not obeying. 
Hath eaten of the fruit, and is become 
Not dead, as we are threatened, but thenceforth 870 
Endu'd with human voice and human sense, 

imperfect) measure of that ' great joy he promis'd,* and < solace in 
her retonu' Doubts mingling with his hope made the measure of 
joy fidter, or be deficient 

^64 too] This is Fenton's emendation ; before, in all the editions it 
was < to prompt,' which Newton considers to be an error of the press, 
and Todd thinks might have been the genuine text 


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BOOK IX. 813 

Reasoniiig to admiration, and with me 
Persuasively hath so prevail'd, that I 
Have also tasted, and have also found 
Th' effects to correspond ; opener mine eyes, 875 
Dim erst, dilated spirits, ampler heart. 
And growing up to Godhead ; which for thee 
Chiefly I sought, without thee can despise. 
For bliss, as thou hast part, to me is bliss. 
Tedious, unshar'd with thee, and odious soon. eso 
Thou therefore also taste, that equal lot 
May join us, equal joy, as equal love ; 
Lest thou not tasting, different degree 
Disjoin us, and I then too late renounce 
Deity for thee, when fate will not permit 685 

Thus Eve with countenance blithe her story told ; 
But in her cheek distemper flushing glow'd. 
On th' other side, Adam, soon as he heard 
The fatal trespass done by Eve, amazM, 
Astonied stood and blank, while horror chill SM X^ 

sv unshar'd with thee] A. Ramsei P. Sacr. toL L p. 33. 

* sed te sine colum ; 

Te sine, dulce nihil ! Terrisne, inglozius eno ? 
Subsides imis ?' 
«o lunrvr ckiU] So in Grotii Adamos Exsul, p. 48. 
< Gelidus per aitos vadit ezcussos tremor : 
Exsanguis adsto : Crinis erectus liget 
Vix ipse valido spiritus gemitu viam 
Pnerupit' • 
«o Uank] Virg. iEn. iL 120. 

' Obstupuere animis, gelidnsque per ima cacumt 
Ossa tremor.' 
■ad xil. 951. * lUi solvuntnr frigore membra.' Hume. 
VOL. I. 40 


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Ran through his veins, and all his joints relax'd ; 
From his slack hand the garland wreath'd for Eve 
Down dropp'd, and all the faded roses shed : 
Speechless he stood and pale, till thus at length 
First to himself he inward silence broke. 895 

O fairest of creation, last and best 
Of all (Sod's works, creature in whom excelPd 
Whatever can to sight or thought be form'd, 
Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet ! 
How art thou lost! how on a sudden lost, 900 

Defac'd, deflower'd, and now to death devote ! 
Rather how hast thou yielded to transgress 
The strict forbiddance, how to violate 
The sacred fruit forbidd'n ! some cursed fraud 
Of enemy hath beguil'd thee, yet unknown, 906 

And me with thee hath ruin'd, for with thee 
Certain my resolution is to die : 
How can I live without thee ! how forego 
Thy sweet converse and love so dearly join'd. 
To live again in these wild woods forlorn ! 9io 

Should God create another Eve, and I 
Another rib afford, yet loss of thee 
Would never from my heart : no no! I feel 
The link of nature draw me : flesh of flesh 
Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy state 9i5 
Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe. 


808 dropped] Mr. Bowie refers to Propert El. iv. 9. and Pers. Sat 
«i devaU] Hor. Od. iv. xiv. 18. 

< Devota morti pectora libere.' Todd. 


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BOOK IX. 315 

So having said, as one from sad dismay 
Recomforted, and after thoughts disturb'd 
Submitting to what seem'd remediless, 
Thus in calm mood his words to Eve he tum'd. 990 

Bold deed thou hast presumed, adventurous Eve, 
And peril great provok'd, who thus hast dai^dj 
Had it been only coveting to eye 
That sacred fruit, sacred to abstinence, 
Much more to taste it under ban to touch. 995 

But past who can recal, or done undo ? 
Not God omnipotent, nor Fate ; yet so 
Perhaps thou shalt not die, perhaps the fact 
Is not so heinous now, foretasted fruit, 
Profan'd first by the serpent, by him first 990 

Made common and unhallow'd ere our taste ; 
Not yet on him found deadly; he yet lives. 
Lives, as thou said'st, and gains to Jive as man 
Higher degree of life, inducement strong 
To us, as likely tasting to attain 935 

Proportional ascent, which cannot be 
But to be gods, or angels demigods. 
Nor can I think that God, creator wise. 
Though threatening, will in earnest so destroy 
Us his prime creatures, dignify'd so high, 940 

Set over all his works, which in our fall, 

s^ hati] So it IB in the first edition ; in the second it is printed by 
mistake < hath dar'd ;' and that is followed by some others. Newton, 
908 pott] See Find. Olymp. iL 29 ; and Sophocles Track 745. 

tpopdkv tig dv dvvav^ ay4pnfT0P 7tot$iP. 


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For US created, needs with us must fail, 
Dependent made ; so God shall uncreate, 
Be frustrate, do, undo, and labour los^* 
Not well conceived of God ; who, though his power 
Creation could repeat, yet would be loth 946 

Us to abolish, lest the adversary 
Triumph and say ; Fickle their state whom God 
Most favours ; who can please him long ? Me first 
He ruined, now mankind ; whom v/ill he next ? 960 
Matter of scorn, not to be given the foe. 
However I with thee have fixM my lot, 
^ Certain to undergo like doom ; if death 
Consort with thee, death is to me as life ; 
So forcible within my heart I feel d» 

The bond of nature draw me to my own; 
My own in thee, for what thou art is mine ; - 
Our state cannot be severed; we are one. 
One flesh ; to lose thee were to lose myself. 

So Adam, and thus Eve to him reply'd* 960 

O glorious trial of exceeding love, 
, Illustrious evidence, example high ! 
Engaging me to emulate, but, short 
Of thy perfection, how shall I attain, 964 

Adam ? from whose dear side I boast me sprung. 
And gladly of our union hear thee speak. 
One heart, one soul in both ; whereof good proof 
This day affords, declaring thee resolv'd. 
Rather than death or aught than death more dread 
Shall separate us link'd in love so dear, 970 

To undergo with me one guilt, one crime, 



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BOOK IX. 317 

If any be, of tasting this fair fruit, 

Whose virtue, (for of good still good proceeds, 

Direct, or by occasion,) hath presented 

This happy trial of thy love, which else W6 

So eminently never had been known. 

Were it I thought death menac'd would ensue 

This my attempt, I would sustain alone 

The worst, and not persuade thee^-catlker die 

Deserted, than oUige thee with a fact - / 980 

Pernicious to thy peace, chiefly assur'd ^ 

Remarkably so late of thy so true. 

So faithful love unequalPd ; but I feel 

Far otherwise th' event, not death, but life 

Augmented, open'd eyes, new hopes, new joys, 965 

Taste so divine, that what of sweet before 

Hath touch'd my sense, flat seems to this and harsh. 

On my experience, Adam, freely taste, 

And fear of death deliver to the winds. 

So saying, she embrac'd him, and for joy 990 

Tenderly wept, much won that he his love 
Had so ennobled, as of choice to incur 

978 aUme] Ere saTs in the Adam. Exb. of Grotins, p. 54. 

* Oinne niat in me malum, 

Si quod futurum est Parcat ! O parcat viro !' 

no Mige] Newton has observed the force of < oblige,' to render 

obnoxious to guilt or punishment Cic. pro domo suA, viii. ' Cum 

populum Romanum scelere obUgdatesJ Fin. L 14. and Hor. Od. iL 


< sed tu simul MigdsU 

Perfidum votis caput' 

<M tmnds] A sort of proverbial expression. Hor. Od. L xxvi. L 





Trodom protervis in mare 
. Portaie venKf .' 


BUkUUU Vb 1 



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Divine displeasure for her sake, or death. 

In recompense, (for such compliance bad 

Such recompense best merits,) from the bough 995 

She gave him of that fair enticing fruit 

With liberal hand : he scrupled not to eat 

Against his better knowledge, not deceived, 

But fondly overcome with female charm. 

Earth trembled from her entrails, as again looo 

In pangs, and Nature gave a second groan; 

Sky lowr'd, and, mutt'ring thunder, some sad drops 

Wept at completing of the mortal sin 

Original ; while Adam took no thought. 

Eating his fill; nor Eve to iterate 1006 

Mer former trespass fear'd, the more to soothe 

Him with her lov'd society, that now, 

As with new wine intoxicated both, 

They swim in mirth, and fancy that they feel 

Divinity within them breeding wings 1010 

Wherewith to scorn the earth : but that false fruit 

Far other operation first displayed. 

Carnal desire inflaming ; he on Eve 

Began to cast lascivious eyes, she him 

As wantonly repaid ; in lust they burn: 1015 

Till Adam thus 'gan Eve to dalliance move. 

Eve, now I see thou art exact of taste. 
And elegant, of sapience no small part, 

1001 JVcrfurc] See Virg. Georg. iv. 493, and Stat Theb. n. 410. 
< Ter nigriB avidus regnator ab oris 
Intonuit, terque ima soli concussit, et ipsi 
Armorum fiigere Dei.' 
and Val. Flac. viii. 117. 



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BOOK IX. 319 

Since to each meaning savour we apply, 

And palate call judicious; I the praise 1020 

Yield thee, so well this day thou hast purvey'd. 

Much pleasure we have lost, while we ahstain'd 

From this delightful fruit, nor known till now 

True relish, tasting ; if such pleasure be 

In things to us forbidden, it might be vnsh'd, 1025 

For this one tree had been forbidden ten. 

But come, so well refreshed, now let us play, 

As meet is, after such delicious fare ; 

For never did thy beauty, since the day 

I saw thee first and wedded thee, adom'd 1030 

With all perfections, so inflame my sense 

With ardor to enjoy thee, fairer now 

Than ever, bounty of this virtuous tree. 

So said he, and forbore not glance or toy 
Of amorous intent, well understood 1035 

Of Eve, whose eye darted contagious fire. 
Her hand he seiz'd, and to a shady bank. 
Thick overhead with verdant roof imbower'd. 
He led her nothing loath ; flowers were the couch, 
Pansies, and violets, and asphodel, 1040 

And hyacinth, earth's freshest softest lap. 
There they their fill of love and love's disport 
Took largely, of their mutual guilt the seal. 
The solace of their sin, till dewy sleep 1044 

1W4 dewy sUep] E Penseroso, 146. * Invite the dewy feather'd 
sleep.' and Val. Flac. iv. 16> *• Liquidique potentia Bomni.' Lucret. iv. 
905, < Soninus quietem inriget' Auctor Epit Iliadoe, 120, 

* Die sopore 

Corpus inundaium leni prostratos habebat*' 


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Oppressed them, wearied with their amorous play. 
" Soon as the force of that fallacious fruit, 
That with exhilarating vapour bland 
About their spirits had play'd, and inmost powers 
Made err, was now exhaPd, and grosser sleep 
Bred of unkindly fumes, with conscious dreams loso 
Encumber'd, now had left them, up they rose 
As from unrest, and, each the other viewing. 
Soon found their eyes how open'd, and their minds 
How darken'd : innocence, that as a veil 
Had shadow'd them from knowing ill, was gone, 
Just confidence, and native righteousness, 
And honour from about' them ; naked left 
To guilty shame ; he cover'd, but his robe 
Uncovered more. So rose the Danite strong 
Herculean Samson from the harlot*lap 106O 

Of Philistean Dalilah, and wak'd 
Shorn of his strength ; they destitute and bare 
Of all their virtue : silent, and in face 
Confounded, long they sat, as strucken mute. 
Till Adam, though not less than Eve abash'd, loes 
At length gave utterance to these words constrained. 

O Eve, in evil hour thou didst give ear 
To that false worm, of whomsoever taught 
To counterfeit man's voice, true in our fall. 
False in our promised rising ; since our eyes lOTo 

10S8 i^uane] After < shame' there 10 no stop even in llfilton's own 
editions, and there should haye been a semicolon at least * Shame 
covered Adam and Eve with his robe; but this fo6e of his un- 
covered them more.' ▼. S. Agon. 841. JSTewton. y. Psahn ciz. 38. 


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BOOK IX. 32t 

■ %■ 

Open'd we find indeed, and find we know 

Both good and evil; good lost, and evil got; 

Bad fruit of knowledge, if this be to know, 

Which leaves us naked thus, of honour void. 

Of innocence, of faith, of purity, 1075 

Our wonted ornaments now soil'd and stain'd, 

And in our faces evident the signs 

Of foul concupiscence ; whence evil store. 

Even shame, the last of evils ; of the first 

Be sure then. How shall I behold the face loao 

Henceforth of God or angel, erst with joy 

And rapture so oft beheld ? those heavenly shapes 

Will dazzle now this earthly, with their blaze 

Insufferably bright. O might I here 

In solitude live savage, in some glade 1085 

Obscur'd, where highest woods, impenetrable 

To star or sun-light, spread th^ir umbrage broad. 

And brown as evening : cover me, ye pines ! 

Ye cedars, with innumerable boughs 

Hide me, where I may never see them more! 1090 

But let us now, as in bad plight, devise 

What best may for the present serve to hide 

The parts of each from other, that seem most 

To shame obnoxious, and unseemliest seen ; 

Some tree, whose broad smooth leaves together sew'd^ 

io« impenOrabU] v. Stat Theb. x. 85. 

* nuUi pendrabUis astro 

Lucus iners.' JVet^ion. 

1099 for] These lines misprinted in the second edition : 
< What best mAyfrom the present serve to hide 
The parts of each /or other.' 
VOL. I. 41 


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And girded on our loins, may cover round 
Those middle parts; that this new comer, shame, 
There sit not, and reproach us as. unclean. 
So counseled he, and both together went 
Into the thickest wood ; there soon they chose iioo 
The figtree, not that kind for fruit renown'd, 
But such as at this day to Indians known 
In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms 
Branching so broad and long, that in the ground 
The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow 
About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade iioe 

High overarch'd, and echoing walks between ; 
There oft the Indian herdsman shunning heat 
Shelters in cool, and tends his pasturing herds 
At loopholes cut thro' thickest shade. Those leaves 
They gathered broad, as Amazonian targe, lui 

And with what skill they had together sew'd, 
To gird their waist, vain covering, if to hide 
Their guilt and dreaded shame ; O how unlike 
To that first naked glory ! Such of late iiis 

Columbus found th' American so girt 
With feather'd cincture, naked else and .wild 
Among the trees on isles and woody shores. 
Thus fenc'd, and as they thought, their shame in part 
Covered, but not at rest or ease of mind, 1120 

1103 Decan] The most celebrated specimen of this tree in India, is 
one that entirely covers an island in the Nerbudda, about twelve 
miles above Broach. It is called Euveer-Bur. See Heber's Travels 
in India, iiL 67, and Forbes' Orient Mem. L 274, iiL 246, 543. It is 
two thousand feet round, and has thirteen hundred and fifty trunks. 
Bee plate, L 37. 


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BOOK IX. 323 

They sat them down to weep; nor only tears 

Rain'd at their eyes, but high winds worse within 

Began to rise, high passions, anger, hate. 

Mistrust, suspicion, discord, and shook sore 

Their inward state of mind, calm region once 1125 

And full of peace, now tost and turbulent: 

For understanding rul'd not, and the will 

Heard not her lore; both in subjection now 

To sensual appetite, who from beneath 

Usurping over sovereign reason claim'd 1130 

Superior sway : from thus distempered breast 

Adam, estrang-d in look and altered style. 

Speech intermitted thus to Eve renew'd. 

Would thou hadst hearken'd to my words, and 
With me, as I besought thee, when that strange 1135 
Desire of wandering this unhappy morn 
I know not whence possess'd thee ; we had then 
Remain'd still happy, not, as now, despoil'd 
Of all our good, sham'd, naked, miserable. 
Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve 
The faith they owe ; when earnestly they seek iwi 
Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail. 

To whom,soon mov'd with touch of blame, thus Eve. 
What words have passed thy lips, Adam severe ! 
Imput'st thou that to my default, or will 1145 

Of wandering, as thou call'st it, which who knows 

n^ both] Fenton reads < hut in subjection.' 
n44 words] Compare Horn. U. xiv. 83. 

'uitgiUtTj, Ttcidtf ere htog qf&fsr iQxog 6d6vT(av, Tkytr, 


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But might as ill have liappen'd thou being by, 
Or to thyself perhaps? hadst thou been there, 
Or here th' attempt, thou couldst not have discern'd 
Fraud in the serpent, speaking as he spake ; nso 
No ground of enmity between us known. 
Why he should mean me ill^ or seek to harm. 
Was I to have never parted from thy side? 
As good have grown there still a lifeless rib. 
Being as I am, why didst not thou the head ii55 

Command me absolutely not to go. 
Going into such danger, as thou said'st ? 
Too facil then thou didst not much gainsay; 
Nay, didst permit, approve, and fair dismiss. 
Hadst thou been firm and fix'd in thy dissent, iieo 
Neither had I transgressed, nor thou with me. 
To whom then first incens'd, Adam reply 'd. 
Is this the love, is this the recompence 
Of mine to thee, ingrateful Eve! expressed 
Immutable when thou wert lost, not I, lies 

Who might have liv'd and joy 'd immortal bliss. 
Yet willingly chose rather death with thee ? 
And am I now upbraided, as the cause 
Of thy transgressing, not enough severe. 
It seems, in thy restraint ? what could I more? iito 
I wam'd thee, I admonish'd thee, foretold 
The danger, and the lurking enemy 

1185 Immutable] Inimitable. BenO. MS. 

U70 %] So in the eaily editions ; in Tonson's, 1711, it ib <in n^ 
restraint,' which TickeO, Fenton, and Bentiey have impropeily 


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BOOK IX. 325 

That lay in wait : beyond this had been force. 

And force upon free will hath here no place. 

But confidence then bore thee on, secure ii75 

Either to meet no danger, or to find 

Matter of glorious trial ; and perhaps 

I also err'd in overmuch admiring 

What seem'd in thee so perfect, that I thought 

No evil durst attempt thee ; but I rue iiso 

That error now, which is become my crime, 

And thou th' accuser. Thus it shall befall 

Him who to worth in women overtrusting 

Lets her will rule ; restraint she will not Iwook, 

And left to herself, if evil thence ensue, ii85 

She first his weak indulgence will accuse. 

Thus they in mutual accusation spent 
The firuitless hours, but neither self-condemning, 
And of their vain contest appear'd no end. 


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Maf'b tnnsgreasioii known, the guardian angels forsake paiadiae, 
and retam up to heaven to approve their vigilance, and are approved, 
God declaring that the entrance of Satan could not be by them pre- 
vented. He sends his Son to judge the transgressoRi; who descends, 
and gives sentence accordingly ; then in pity clothes them both, and 
reascends. Sin and Death, sitting till then at the gates of hell, by 
wondrous sympathy feeling the success of Satan in this new world, 
and the sin by man there committed, resolve to sit no longer con- 
fined in hell, but to follow Satan their sire up to the place of man : 
to make the way easier finom hell to this world to and fro, they pave 
a broad highway, or bridge, over Chaos, according to the track that 
Satan first made ; then, preparing for earth, they meet him, proud of 
his success, returning to hell : their mutual gratulation. Satan ar- 
rives at Pandemonium, in full assembly relates with boasting his 
success against man: instead of applause, is entertained with a 
general hiss by all his audience, transformed, with himself also, 
suddenly into serpents, according to his doom given in paradise ; 
then, deluded with a show of the forbidden tree springing up before 
them, they greedily reaching to take of the fruit, chew dust and 
bitter ashes. The proceedings of Sin and Death ; God foretells the 
final victory of his Son over them, and the renewing of all things ; 
but for the present conmiands his angels to make several alterations 
in the heavens and elements. Adam, more and more perceiving his 
ftllen condition, heavily bewails, rejects the condolement of Eve ; 
she persists, and at length appeases him : then, to evade the curse 
likely to (all on their offspring, proposes to Adam violent ways, which 
ha qyproves not ; but conceiving better hope, puts her in mind of the 


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BOOK X. 327 

late promise made them, that her seed ahould be reyenged on the 
serpent, and exhorts her with him to seek peace of the offended 
Deitjy by repentance and supplication. 

Meanwhile the heinous and despightful act 
Of Satan done m paradise, and how 
He in the serpent had perverted Eve, 
Her husband she, to taste the fatal fruit, 
Was known in heaven ; for what can scape the eye 
Of God all-seeing, or deceive hi^ heart 6 

Omniscient? who, in all things wise and just, 
Hinder'd not Satan to attempt the mind 
Of man, with strength entire, and freewill arm'd, 
Complete to have discovered and repuls'd lo 

Whatever wiles of foe or seeming friend ! 
For still they knew, and ought to have still remem- 
The high injunction not to taste that fruit, 
Whoever tempted ; which they not obeying 
IncurrM, (what could they less ?) the penalty, 16 
And, manifold in sin, deserv'd to falL 

Up into heaven from paradise in haste 
Th' angelic guards ascended, mute and sad 
For man ; for of his state -by this they knew. 
Much wondering how the subtle fiend had stoPn 20 
Entrance unseen. Soon as th' unwelcome news 
From earth arrivM at heaven-gate, displeas'd 
All were who heard ; dim sadness did not spare 
That time celestial visages, yet mix'd 
With pity,.violated not their bliss. » 

About the new-arriv'd in multitudes 


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Th' ethereal people ran, to hear and know 

How all befell : they towards the throne supreme 

Accountable, made haste to make appear 

With righteous plea their utmost vigilance, 30 

And easily approved ; when the most high 

Eternal Father from his secret cloud 

Amidst in thunder utter'd thus his voice. 

Assembled angels, and ye powers retum'd 
From unsuccessful charge, be not dismay'd, 35 

Nor troubled at these tidings from the earth, 
Which your sincerest care could not prevent ; 
Foretold so lately what would come to pass, 
When first this tempter crossM the gulf from hell, 
I told ye then he should pre va^il and speed 40 

On his bad errand; man should be seduc'd 
And flatter'd out of all, believing lies 
Against his Msd^er ; no decree of mine 
Concurring to necessitate his fall, 
Or touch with lightest moment of impulse 45 

His free will, to her own inclining left 
In even scale. But fallen he is ; and now 
What rests, but that the mortal sentence pass 
On his transgression, death denounc'd that day ? 
Which he presumes already vain and void, 60 

Because not yet inflicted, as he fear'd, 
*By some immediate stroke ; but soon shall find 
Forbearance no acquittance ere day end. 
Justice shall not return as bounty scom'd. 
But whom send I to judge them ? whom but thee 55 
Vicegerent Son ; to thee I have transferred 


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BOOK X. 329 

All judgment, whether in heaven, or earth, or hell. 

Easy it may be seen that I intend 

Mercy colleague with justice, sending thee 

Man's friend, his mediator, his design'd 60 

Both ransom and redeemer voluntary. 

And destined man himself to judge man fallen. 

So spake the Father, and, unfolding bright 
Toward the right hand his glory, on the Son 
Blaz'd forth unclouded Deity ; he full fs 

Resplendent all his Father manifest 
Express'd, and thus divinely answer'd mild. 

Father eternal, thine is to decree ; 
Mine both in heaven and earth to do thy will 
Supreme, that thou in me thy Son belov'd 70 

May'st ever rest well pleas'd. I go to judge 
On earth these thy transgressors; but thou know'st. 
Whoever judg'd, the worst on me must light, 
When time shall be, for so I undertook 
Before thee, and not repenting this obtain 75 

Of right, that I may mitigate their doom 
On me deriv'd; yet I shall temper so 
Justice with mercy, as may illustrate most 
Them fully satisfy'd, and thee appease. 
Attendance none shall need, nor train, where none 
Are to behold the judgment, but the judg'd, 81 

Those two ; the third best absent is condemn'd, 
Convict by flight, and rebel to all law ; 
Conviction to the serpent none belongs. 

^ fnay] The second edHion, and others, give, * Easy it might be 

VOL. I. 42 


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Thu saying, fiom his radiant seat lie rose 8S 
Of high coUateial ^iorj : him diiones and powers. 
Princedoms and dominations ministrant 
Accompany'd to heaTen-gate, firom whence 
Eden and all the coast in prospect lay. 
Down he descended straight ; the speed of gods 90 
Tune counts not, tho' with swiftest minutes wing'd. 
Now was the sun in western cadence low 
From noon, and gentle airs due at their hour 
To fan the earth now wak'd, and usher in 
The e^'ning cool, when he firom wrath more cool 96 
Came, the mild judge and intercessor both. 
To sentence man : the Toice of God they heard 
Now walking in the garden; by soft winds 
Brought to their ears, while day declin'd, they heard. 
And firom his presence hid themselTes among loo 
The thickest trees, both man and wife, till €rOD 
Approaching thus to Adam calFd aloud. 

Where art thou Adam, wont with joy to meet 
My coming seen far off? I miss thee here, 
Not pleas'd, thus entertain'd with solitude, los 

Where obvious duty erewhile appear'd unsought : 

» eoOaiara] Shakesp. MPb Well that Ends WeD, aet L scene L 
( In his bright ratUanee and coOaUnd light, 
Most I bu comforted, not in his sphere.' Steevena. 
IM Where art thou] See A. Ramsaei Poem. Sacr. toL L p. 35. 

* -^ vocisque volutat imago, 

Per nemns ingeminans, Adam ! Adam ! qns loca, qos te 
Temramque tenent sedes ? Commercia nostm 
Congressasqne fugis ? Sihris quid te abdia qMcia ?* 



BOOK X. 331 

Or come I less conspicuoas? or what change 
Absents thee, or what chance detains ? Come forth. 

He came, and with him Eve, more \mth, though 
To offend, discountenanc'd both, and discomposed. 
Love was not in their looks, either to God iii 

Or to each other, but apparent guilt. 
And shame, and perturbation, and despair. 
Anger, and obstinacy, and hate, and guile. 
Whence Adam, faltering long, thus answer'd brief. 

I heard thee in the garden, and of thy voice lie 
Afraid, bemg naked, hid myself. To whom 
The gracious Judge without revile reply'd. 

My voice thou oft hast heard, and hast not fear'd. 
But still rejoic'd ; how is it now become 120 

So dreadful to thee ? that thou art naked, who 
Hath told thee ? hast thou eaten of the tree 
Whereof I gave thee charge thou shouldst not eat ? 

To whom thus Adam sore beset reply'd. 
O'lieaven ! in evil strait this day I stand 196 

Before my Judge, either to undergo 
Myself the total crime, or to accuse 
My other self, the partner of my life ; 
Whose failing, while her faith to me remains, 
[ should conceal, and not expose to blame lao 

lu I heard] So in Grotii Adamus Exsul, p. ^. 
* Audivi truces, 
Metaende rector ! per nemus Bacmm sonos^ 

membra concussit pavor 

Tremuique totus.' 


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By my complaint ; but strict necessity 

Subdues me, and calamitous constramt, 

Lest on my head both sin and punishment, 

However insupportable, be all 

Devolv'd : though should I hold my peace, yet thou 

Wouldst easily detect what I conceal. lae 

This woman, whom thou mad^st to be my help. 

And gay'st me as thy perfect gift, so good. 

So fit, so acceptable, so divine, 

That from her hand I could suspect no ill, i40 

And what she did, whatever in itself. 

Her doing seem'd to justify the deed ; 

She gave me of the tree, and I did eat. 

To whom the sovereign Presence thus reply'd. 
Was she thy God, that her thou didst obey i45 

Before his voice ? or was she made thy guide, 
Superior, or but equal, that to her 
Thou didst resign thy manhood, and the place 
Wherein God set thee above her, made of thee. 
And for thee, whose perfection far excell'd iso 

. Hers in all real dignity ? adom'd 
s She was indeed, and lovely to attract 
/Thy love, not thy subjection ; and her gifts 
(Were such as under government well seem'd, 

1^ This wman] * Conflortem dedenus thalami ; 

per te dotale Tenenum 

Hoc ego concept Nam que mihi lege jugali 
Jiiiicta fuit, nostro per te dignata cubili, 
Blanditaifl teneris nostris amplexibos hsBreoB, 
Ferales epulas, inimicaque fercula suasit' 

^ Rami. P. 5. i. p. 37. 


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BOOK X. 333 

Unseemly to bear ruley which was thy part iss 

And person, hadst thou known thyself aright. 

So having said, he thus to Eve in few: 
Say, woman, what is this which thou hast done ? 

To whom sad Eve with shame nigh overwhelmed. 
Confessing soon, yet not before her Judge 160 

Bold or loquacious, thus abash'd reply'd. 
The serpent me beguil'd, and I did eat. 

Which when the Lord God heard, without delay 
To judgment he proceeded on th' accus'd 
Serpent though brute; unable to transfer 165 

The guilt on him who made him instrument 
Of mischief, and polluted from the end 
Of his creation ; justly then accurs'd, ^ 

As vitiated in nature : more to know 
Concern'd not man, (since he no further knew,) 170 
Nor alter'd his offence : yet God at last 
To Satan first in sin his doom apply'd, 
Though in mysterious terms, judg'd as then best : 
And on the serpent thus his curse let fall. 

Because thou hast done this, thou art accurs'd 175 
Above all cattle, each beast of the field ; 
Upon thy belly groveling thou shalt go, 

1^ ihypart] A pure Latinism, the persantB diamatiB. So Cic. pro 
Mmr. c. 2. < Has pcaies lenitatis et misericordiffi, quas me Natuia 
ipsa docuit, semper ago libenter: illam vero gravitatis, seveiitatis 
ptrBonam non appetm.' Richardson, 

157 in few] So K. Hen. IV. P. iL act i. s. 1. 

* In few ; his death, whose spirit lent a fire.' ... 
and Warner's Alh. Engl. 1608, p. 40. 

* In few ; the wars are full of woes.' Todd, 

Digitized by VjOOQIC 


And dust shalt eat all the days of thy life. 
Between thee and the woman I will put 
Enmitjy aiid between thine and her seed ; 180 

Her seed shall bruise thy head, thou bruise his heel. 
^ So spake this oracle, then verify'd 
I When Jesus, son of Mary, second Eve, 
jSaw Satan fall like lightning down from heaven, 
*^rince of the air ; then rising from his grave i85 
Spoil'd principalities and powers, triumph'd 
In open'd show, and with ascension bright 
Captivity led captive through the air, 
The realm itself of Satan long usurp'd, 
Whom he shall tread at last under our feet ; i90 
Ev'n he who now foretold his fatal bruise ; 
And to the woman thus his sentence turn'd. 

Thy sorrow I will greatly multiply 
By thy conception ; children thou shalt bring 
In sorrow forth, and to thy husband's will ise 

Thine shall submit ; he over thee shall rule. 

On Adam last thus judgment he pronouncM. 
Because thou hast hearken'd to the voice of thy wife, 
And eaten of the tree concerning which 
I charged thee, saying : Thou shalt not eat thereof, 
Curs'd is the ground for thy sake; thou in sorrow 201 
Shalt eat thereof all the days of thy life ; 
Thorns also and thistles it shall bring thee forth 
Unbid, and thou shalt eat th' herb of the field ; 
In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, ao5 
Till thou Tetum unto the ground ; for thou 


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BOOK X. 335 

Out of the groimd wast taken, know thj birth, 
For dust thou art, and shalt to dust return. 

So judg'd he man, both Judge and Sai^iour sent ; 
And th' mstant stroke of death denounced that day 
Remov'd far off; then pitying how they stood aii 
Before him naked to the air, that now 
Must suffer change, disdain'd not to begin 
Thenceforth the form of servant to assume; 
As when he wash'd his servants' feet, so now ais 
As father of his family he clad 
Their nakedness with skins of beasts, or slain. 
Or as the snake with youthful coat repaid ; 
And thought not much to clothe his enemies. 
Nor he their outward only with the skins aao 

Of beasts, but inward nakedness, much more 
Opprobrious, with his robe of righteousness, 
Arraying, coverM from his Father's sight. 
To him with swift ascent he up returned. 
Into his blissful bosom reassumM SS5 

In glory as of old; to him appeas'd 
All, though all-knowing, what had past with man 
Recounted, mixing intercession sweet. 

Meanwhile, ere thus was sinn'd and judg'd on 
Within the gates of hell sat Sin and Death, 280 
In counterview within the gates, that now 
Stood open wide, belching outrageous flame 

SB bdcking] Spens. F. Q. i. xL 44. 

* Am burning i£tna firom his boyling Btew f - 
Doth belch out Jkunes.* Todd. 


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Far into Chaos, since the fiend passed through, 
Sin opening, who thus now to Death began. 

O son, why sit we here, each other viewing 235 
Idly, while Satan our great author thrives 
In oihei worlds, and happier seat provides 
For us his ofispring dear ? It cannot be 
But that success attends him ; if mishap, 
Ere this he had returned, with fury driv'n 240 

By his avengers, since no place like this 
Can fit his punishment, or their revenge. 
Methinks I feel new strength within me rise. 
Wings growing, and dominion giv'n me large 
Beyond this deep ; whatever draws me on, 345 

Or sympathy, or some connatural force, 
Powerful at greatest distance to unite 
With secret amity things of like kind 
By secretest conveyance. Thou my shade 
Inseparable must with me along ; 250 

For Death from Sin no power can separate. 
But lest the difficulty of passing back 
Stay his return perhaps over this gulf 
Impassable, impervious, let us try 
Adventurous work, yet to thy power and mine 255 
Not unagreeable, to found a path 
Over this main from hell to that new world 
Where Satan now prevails, a monument 
Of merit high to all th' infernal host, 

949 9hade] ' Shade' used in the same maimer in class, authors*. Hor. 
Sat ii. 8. 22. '' 

— *^ * quoB MflBcenas adduxerat nmhras !' Mtoton, 


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BOOK X. 887 

£asiDg their passage hence, for intercourse, M) 

Or transmigration, as their lot shall lead. 
Nor can I miss the way so strongly drawn 
By this new felt attraction and instinct. 

Whom thus the meagre shadow answered soon. 
Go whither iate and inclination strong 266 

Leads thee ; I shall not lag behind, nor err, 
The way thou leading, such a scent I draw 
Of carnage, prey innumerable, and taste 
The savour of death from all things there that live: 
Nor shall I to the work thou enterprisest sro 

Be wanting, but afford thee equal aid. 

So saying, with delight he snuff'd the smell 
Of mortal change on earth. As when a flock 
Of ravenous fowl, though many a league remote. 
Against the day of battle, to a field, 275 

Where armies lie encamp'd, come fljring, lurM 
With scent of living carcasses design'd 
For death, the following day, in bloody fight : 
So scented the grim Feature, and upturned 
His nostril wide into the murky air, sso 

9W err] Newton has thus pointed the text : 

< I shall not lag behind, nor err 

The way, thou leading.' 
Well may he caU it a remarkable expression ; but it should thus be 

< I shall not lag behind, nor err, 

The way thou leading.' 
This error is retained in Mr. Todd's edition. It is, however, proper 
to observe, that the punctuation of Milton's own editions agrees with 
98B innumerixbU] 'Exuberant' BewU. MS, 
VOL. I. 43 


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Sagacious of his quarry from so far. 

Then both from out hell-gates into the waste 

Wide anarchy of Chaos damp and dark 

Flew diverse ; and with power, (their power was 

Hovering upon the waters, what they met 966 

Solid or slimy, as in raging sea 
Tost up and down, together crowded drove 
From each side shoaling towards the mouth of hell. 
As when two polar winds, blowing adverse 
Upon the Cronian sea, together drive 290 

Mountains of ice, that stop th' imagined way 
Beyond Petsora eastward, to the rich 
Cathaian coast The aggregated soil 
Death with his mace petrific, cold and dry. 
As with a trident smote, and iix'd as firm 296 

As Delos floating once ; the rest his look 
Bound with Gorgonian rigour not to move. 
And with Asphaltic slime, broad as the gate, 
Deep to the roots of hell the gathered beach 
They fastened, and the mole immense wrought on 300 
Over the foaming deep high arch'd, a bridge 
Of length prodigious joining to the wall 
Immoveable of this now fenceless world 
Forfeit to death ; from hence a passage broad, 

a>* mace] So Marlowe and Nash's Trag. of Dido. 1594. 
< Whose memoiy, like pale DeaJOCs stony mace, 
Beates forth my senses.' HickardsofL 

9V7 Gorgonian] Claud. Rufin. L 379. 

* Rigidd cum (hrgont Peneus !' Pearee, 


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BOOK X. 389 

Smooth, easy, inoffensive, down to hell. ao6 

So, if great things to small may be compar'd, 

Xerxes, the liberty of Greece to yoke. 

From Susa his Memnonian palace high 

Came to the sea, and over Hellespont 

Bridging his way, Europe with Asia join'd, 3io 

And scourg'd with many a stroke th' indignant waves* 

Now had they brought the work by wondrous art 

Pontifical, a ridge of pendent rock 

Over the vex'd abyss, following the track 

Of Satan, to the self-same place where he 316 

First lighted from his wing, and landed safe 

From out of Chaos, to the outside bare 

305 inoffensive] Unobfltnicted. Stillingfleet notes the same Latin 
idiom in b. viiL 164. 

* Or she [Earth] firom west her silent course advance 
With inoffennve pace.' 

*** by wondrauB art 

PofUifiad, a ridge of pendent rock] So Sannazaiii Epig. lib. 

DeJocundo arckitedo 
* Juciindtts geminos fecit tibi, Seqaana, pontes : 
Jure tuum potes hunc dicere PonHficem.^ 
313 ridge] Bridge. BeniL MS. 

315 Of Satan] Newton has altered the pointing of the first edition, 
by inserting a conuna after Chaos, but I think the passage would be 
clear, if thus read. 

Now had they brought the work by wondrous art 
Pontifical, a ridge of pendent rock, 
Over the yez'd abyss (following the track 
Of Satan, to the self-same place where he 
First lighted fh>m his wing, and landed safe 
From out of Chaos) to the outside bare 
Of this round world. 
The part that relates to Satan's path being parenthetical. 


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Of dus round world: with pua ct adamant 

And diains they made all fiaist, too fast the j made 

And doraUe ; and wjm in little space »i 

The confines met ct empyrean heaven 

And of this world, and on the left hand hell 

With long teach interpos'd ; three sev'fal ways 

In nght to each of these three places led. 

And now their way to earth they had descry'd, aas 

To paradise first tending, when behcdd! 

Satan m likeness of an angel bri^t 

Betwixt the Centaur and the Scorjuon steering 

His zenith, while the smi in Aries rose : 

Disgois'd he came, bat those his children dear 331 

Their parent soon discem'd, though in disguise. 

He, after Ere seduc'd, unminded slunk 

Into the wood fast by, and, changing shape 

To observe the sequel, saw his guileful act 

By Eve, though all unweeting, seconded 33S 

Upon her husband ; saw their shame that sought 

Vain covertures : bet when he saw descend 

The Son of God to judge them, terrify'd 

He fled, not hoping to escape, but shun 

The present, fearing guilty what his wrath sio 

Might suddenly inflict : that past, retum'd 

By night, and listening where the hapless pair 

Sat in their sad discourse and various plaint. 

Thence gather'd his own doom, which understood 

Not instant, but of future time, with joy 345 

3^ tinu] In AClton's own editioDfly and all otheiB tfll those of Fen- 
ton and Bentley, a full atop waa placed after * Not Inatant, but of 
ftitore time.' Newton has inserted only a comma. 


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BOOK X. 341 

And tidings fraught, to hell he now'retura'dy 
And at the brink of Chaos, near the foot 
Of this new wondrous pontifice, unhop'd 
Met who to meet him came, his offspring dear. 
Great joy was at their meeting, and at sight aco 

Of that stupendous bridge his joy increased. 
Long he admiring stood, till Sin, his fair 
Inchanting daughter, thus the silence broke. 

O parent, these are thy magnific deeds. 
Thy trophies, which thou view'st as not thine own ; 
Thou art their author and prime architect : 356 

For I no sooner in my heart divin'd. 
My heart, WWch by a secret harmony 
Still moves with thine, joinM in connexion sweet, 
That thou on earth hadst prosper'd, which thy looks 
Now also evidence, but straight I felt, 36i 

Though distant from thee worlds between, yet felt 
That I must after thee with this thy son ; 
Such fatal consequence unites us three. 
Hell could no longer hold us in her bounds, 365 

Nor this unvoyageable gulf obscure 
Detain from following thy illustrious track. 
Thou hast achieved our liberty, confin'd 
Within hell-gates till now ; thou us impowerM 
To fortify thus far, and overlay wo 

With this portentous bridge the dark abyss. 
Thine now is all this world; thy virtue hath won 
What thy hands builded not; thy wisdom gain'd 

>M eofweguenee] Congraence. !M7. BenU. MS. 


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With odds what war hath lost, and fully aveng'd 
Our foil in heaven ; here thou shalt monarch reign. 
There didst not ; there let him still victor sway, 
As battle hath adjudg'd, from this new world 
Retiring, by his own doom alienated 
And henceforth monarchy with thee divide 
Of all things, parted by th' empyreal bounds, 380 
His quadrature, from thy orbicular world ; 
Or try thee now more dangerous to his throne. 

Whom thus the prince of darkness answer'd glad. 
Fair daughter, and thou son and grandchild both. 
High proof ye now have giv'n to be the race 38B 
Of Satan, (for I glory in the name. 
Antagonist of heaven's almighty King,) 
Amply have merited of me, of all 
Th' infernal empire, that so near heav'n's door 
Triumphal with triumphal act have met, 390 

Mine with this glorious work, and made one realm 
Hell and this world, one realm, one continent 
Of easy thoroughfare. Therefore, while I 
Descend through darkness on your road with ease 
To my associate powers, them to acquaint 396 

With these successes, and with them rejoice, 
You two this way, among these numerous orbs 
All yours, right down to paradise descend ; 

aw ad] aich. BenU. MS, 

VI one] < one realm, one continent.' This is the gennine reading', 
bat Fenton and Bentley read * our realm,' though Bentley places 
* one' in the margin, as his conjecture. Mwton, 

^ the$e] In the first edition, < those.' 


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BOOK X. 343 

There dwell and reign in bliss, thence on the earth 

Dominion exercise and in the air, 400 

Chiefly on man, sole lord of all declared; 

Him first make sure your thrall, and lastly kill. 

My substitutes I send ye, and create 

Plenipotent on earth, of matchless might 

Issuing from me : on your joint vigor now 406 

My hold of this liew kingdom all depends, 

Through sin to death expos'd by my exploit 

If your joint power prevail, th' affairs of hell 

No detriment need fear ; go and be strong, 409 

So saying he dismiss'd them; they with speed 
Their cour^ through thickest constellations held 
Spreading their bane ; the blasted stars look'd wan, 
And planets, planet-struck, real eclipse 
Then suffer'd. Th' other way Satan went down 
The causey to hell-gate : on either side 4i5 

Disparted Chaos over built exclaim'd, 
And with rebounding surge the bars assail'd. 
That scorn'd his indignation. Through the gate. 
Wide open and unguarded, Satan pass'd. 
And all about found desolate; for those 490 

Appointed to sit there had left their charge, 

4^ prevaS] In the second edition, < prevails.' 
4M stars] P. Fletcher's Locusts, p. 58. 

« Heaven shuts his eyes, 

The sUxrres look paU: Todd, 

*n rebwnding] Virg. Geo. ii. p. 161. 

■ ■ < Lucrinoque addita claustra ; 

Atque indignatum magnis stridoribus asquor.' ^ewUm* 


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Flown to the upper worid ; the rest were all 

Far to the inland retir'd, about the walls 

Of Pandsemonium, city and proud seat 

Of Lucifer, so by allusion calPd, 425 

Of that bright star to Satan paragon'd. 

There kept their watch the legions, while the Grand 

In council sat, solicitous what chance 

Might intercept their emperor sent; so he 

Departing gave command, and they observ'd. 430 

As when the Tartar from his Russian foe 

By Astracan over the snowy plains 

Retires, or Bactrian Sophi from the 'horns 

Of Turkish crescent leavc&t^l waste bef ond 

The realm of Aladule in his retreat 43B 

To Tauris or Casbeen : so these, the late 

Heaven-banish'd host, left desert utmost hell 

Many a dark league, reduc'd in careiul watch 

Round their metropolis, and now expecting 

Each hour their great adventurer from the search 440 

Of foreign worlds : he thro' the midst unmark'd. 

In show plebeian angel militant 

Of lowest order, pass'd ; and from the door 

Of that Plutonian hall invisible 

Ascended his high throne, which, under state 445 

Of richest texture spread, at th' upper end 

Was plac'd in regal lustre. Down a while 

<* paragoned] v. Othello, act iL sc. 1. 

' That paragona description and wild ftme.' Todd. 


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BOOK X. 345 

He sat, and round about him saw unseen : 
At last as from a cloud his fulgent head 449 

And shape star-bright appeared, or brighter, clad 
With what permissive glory since his fall 
Was left him, or false glitter. All amaz'd 
At that so sudden blaze the Stygian throng 
Bent their aspect, and whom they wish'd beheld. 
Their mighty chief return^ : loud was th' acclaim. 
Forth rush'd in haste the great consulting peers, 
Rais'd from their dark divan, and with like joy 
Congratulant approach'd him, who with hand 
Silence, and with these words attention, won. 
jl^Elurones, domination^., princedoms, virtues, 
^^ powers, 4flo 

For in possession such, not only of right, 
I call ye and declare ye now, retum'd 
Successful beyond hope, to lead ye forth 
Triumphant out<of this infernal pit 
Abominable, accurs'd, the house of woe, 465 

448 unBun\ Tasso, Fairfax, viL 36. 

< Within a tarras sate on high the queen, 
And heard, and saw^ and kept herself vftfeme.' BowU. 
* Tet in such sorts as they might tee vnstetu* Sidney^ Arcadia^ toL 
L p. 334, ed. 1725. ^ Dyce. 

^fidgeni] v. Val. Flacc. v. 402» 46& 

< Nehulamque erumpit Jason 

Sideris ora ferens.' 
Syhrester's Du Bartas, p. 201. 

< O miracle ! whose 9tar4trigkt beaming head.' 

4n Har-Mghil ▼. Horn. TL vi. ver. 295. 

« Thy star-bright eyes.' 
T. EDis's Spec. iL 981. (Smith's Chlaris, 1596.) 
VOL. I. 44 




And dungeon of our tyrant : now possess, 

As lords, a spacious world, to our native heaven 

Little inferior, by my adventure hard 

With peril great achieved. Long were to tell 

What 1 have done, what suffer'd, with what pain 470 

Voyag'd th' unreal, vast, unbounded deep 

Of horrible confusion, over which 

By Sin and Death a broad way now is pav'd 

To expedite your glorious march : but I 

Toil'd out my uncouth passage, forc'd to ride 475 

Th' untractable abyss, plung'd in the womb 

Of unoriginal Night and Chaos wild, 

That jealous of their secrets fiercely opposM 

My journey strange, with clamorous uproar 

Protesting fate supreme ; thence how I found 4do 

The new created world, which fame in heaven 

Long had foretold, a fabric wonderful 

Of absolute perfection; therein man 

Plac'd in a paradise, by our exile 

Made happy : him by fraud I have seduc'd 485 

From his Creator, and, the more to increase 

Your wonder, with an apple ; He thereat 

Offended, worth your laughter! hath giv'n up 

Both his beloved man and all his world 

To Sin and Death a prey, and so to us, 490 

Without our hazard, labour, or alarm. 

To range in, and to dwell, and over man 

4B4 exUe] Milton always accentuates this word on the Uui syllable ; 
Shakespeare ases it both ways ; Chaucer and Spenser on the lad 
syllable only. Todd. 



BOOK X. 347 

To rule, as over all he should have rol'd. 

True is, me also he hath judg'd, or rather 

Me not, but the brute serpent, in whose shape 495 

Man I deceived : that which to me belongs 

Is enmity, which he will put between 

Me and mankind ; I am to bruise his heel ; 

His seed, when is not set, shall bruise my head. 

A world who would not purchase with a bruise, 500 

Or much more grievous pain ? Ye have th' account 

Of my performance : what remains, ye gods, 

But up and enter now into full bliss ? 

So having said, a while he stood, expecting 
Their universal shout and high applause 609 

To fill his ear; when contrary he hears 
On all sides, from innumerable tongues, 
A dismal universal hiss, the sound 
Of public scorn ; he wonder'd, but not long 
Had leisure, wond'ring at himself now more : sio 
His visage drawn he felt to sharp and spare, 
His arms clung to his ribs, his legs entwining 
Each other, till supplanted down he fell 
A monstrous serpent on his belly prone. 
Reluctant, but in vain; a greater power 5i5 

Now ml'd him, punish'd in the shape he sinn'd, 
According to his doom. He would have spoke, 
But hiss for hiss returned with forked tongue 
To forked tongue; for now were all transform'd 
Alike, to serpents all as accessories 520 

To his bold riot: dreadful was the din 
Of hissing through the hall, thick swarming now 


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With complicated menstera head and tail, 
Scorpion, and asp, and amphUbaena dire. 
Cerastes hom'd, hydras, and ellops drear, sas 

And dipsas ; (not so thick swarmM once the soil 
Bedropp'd with blood of Gorgon, or the isle 
Ophiusa ;) but still greatest be the midst. 
Now dragon, grown larger than whosn the sun 
IngenderM in the P3rthian vale on slime, 530 

Huge Python, and his power no less he seem'd 
Above the rest still to retain. They all 
Him followed issuing forth to th' open field, 
Where all yet left of that revolted rout 
Heaven^all'n in station stood or just array, 636 

Sublime with expectation when to see 
In triumph issuing forth tibeir glorious chief: 
They saw, but other sight instead^ a crowd 
Of ugly serpents ; horror on them fell, 
And horrid sympathy ; for what they saw, 640 

They felt themselvesnowchanging : downtheirarms, 
Down fell both spear and shield; dovni they as fast; 
And the dire hiss renew'd, and the dire fcMrm 
Catch'd by contagion, like in punishment, 
As in their crime. Thus was th' applause they meant 
Tum'd to exploding hiss, triumph to shame, 646 
Cast on themselves from their own mouths. There 

A* ofp] T. Hagthorpe'fl Divine MeditationB, p. 18. 
* The aspe, and two-headed amphisbena, 
The homed Cerastes, Alexandrian acldnke, 
Dipaae and Diymas.' 



BOOK X. 349 

A groTe hard by, sprung up with this their change, 

His will who reigns abore, to aggravate 

Their penance, laden with fair fruit, like that sso 

Which grew in paradise, the bait of Eve 

Us'd hy the tempter : on that prospect strange 

Their earnest eyes they fix'd, imagining 

For one forbidden tree a multitude 

Now risen, to work them further woe or shame : 656 

Yet parch'd with scalding thirst and hunger fierce. 

Though to delude them sent, could nof abstain. 

But on they roll'd in heaps, and up the trees 

Climbing sat thicker than the snaky locks 

That curPd Megsera : greedily they pluck'd 56o 

The fruitage h^ to sight, like that which grew 

Near that bituminous lake where Sodom flamed ; 

This more delusive not the touch, but taste 

Deceived ; they, fondly thinking to allay 

Their appetite with gust, histead of fruit 566 

Chew'd bitter ashes, which th' offended taste 

With spattering noise rejected : oft they assay'd, 

sso fair] < Their penance laden with/cwr fiiiit, like that' 
So the verse stood in the first ed« ; in the second ' fair* wsa omitted ; 
other editions read, 

< Their penance, laden with froit, like to that' 
Tonson's ed. of 1711, and Tickell's of 1720, r^ad ^patience* for ^pm- 
mice,' which Fenton followed. The true reading is restored in ed. 
1746 of Tonson. 

f^ frttU] See Solini Polyhist c. zzxv. 'Pomom qnod gignitar 
habeat licet specimen matmitatis, mandi tamen non potest, nam 
iiiliginem intrinsicus favillaciam ambitio tantum extime cutis cohibet, 
qnn vel levi pressa tacta fomum esdialat, et fttiscit in yagum 


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Hunger and thirst constraining; druggM as oft, 

With hatefuUest disrelish writhed their jaws 

With soot and cinders fill'd ; so oft they fell 670 

Into the same illusion, not as man 

Whom they triumphed once laps'd. Thus were they 

And worn with famine long, and ceaseless hiss, 
Till their lost shape, permitted, they resum'd. 
Yearly enjoin'd, some say, to undergo 675 

This annual humbling certain numbered days. 
To dash their pride and joy for man seduc'd. 
However, some tradition they dispers'd 
Among the heathen of their purchase got, 
And fabled how the serpent, whom they calPd 680 
Ophion with Eurynome, the wide 
Encroaching Eve perhaps, had first the irule 
Of high Olympus; thence by Saturn driv'n 
And Ops, ere yet Dictaean Jove was bom. 

Meanwhile in paradise the hellish pair 666 

Too soon arriv'd; Sin there in power before. 
Once actual, now in body, and to dwell 
Habitual habitant ; behind her Death 
Close following pace for pace, not mounted yet 
On his pale horse ; to whom Sin thus began. 590 

j^ liqui^d] The meaning of this passage seems to be — ^The ser- 
pents often fell into the mistake of eating the fruit that was fair to 
the eye, but bitter to the taste ; whereas man, over whom they 
triumphed, only once lapsed, 

573 long] Milton's edition places a comma after famine, but 
Newton has improved the line hy proposing it should be thus read 
And worn with famine long, and ceaseless hiss. 


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BOOK X. • 351 

Second of Satan sprung, all conquering Death, 
What think'st thou of our empire now, tho' earn'd 
With travail difficult, not better far 
Than still at hell's dark threshold to have sat watch 
Unnam'd, undreaded, and thyself half starv'd ? 595 

Whom thus the sin-born monster answer'd soon* 
To me, who with eternal famine pine, 
Alike is hell, or paradise, or heaven; 
There best, where most with ravin I may meet ; 
Which here, though plenteous, all too little seems 600 
To stuflF this inaw, this vast unhide-bound corps. 

To whom th' incestuous mother thus replyM. 
Thou therefore on these herbs, and fruits, and flowers 
Feed first, on each beast next, and fish, and fowl, 
No homety morsels, and whatever thing 605 

The scythe of Time mows down, devour unspar'd. 
Till I in man residing through the race. 
His thoughts, his looks, words, actions, all infect ; 
And season him thy last and sweetest prey. 

This said, they both betook them several ways, 
Both to destroy, or unimmortal make 6ii 

All kinds, and for destruction to mature 
Sooner or later ; which th' Almighty seeing. 
From his transcendent seat the saints among, 
To those bright orders utter'd thus his voice. 6i5 

010 betook] so Stat Theb. xL 113, of the Furies. 
Talia partita diversum abiere sorores. 

Slas ut siimmo vidit pater altus Olyiiipo 
Incestare diem, trepidumque Hjrperionis orbem 
Sufiundi maculis, torvo sic inchoat ore. 


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See with what heat these dogs of hell advance 
To waste and havoc yonder world, which I 
So fair and good created, and had still 
Kept in that state, had not the folly of man 
Let in these wasteful furies, who impute eao 

Folly to me; so doth the prince of hell 
And his adherents, that with so much ease 
I suffer them to enter and possess 
A place so heavenly, and conniving seem 
To gratify my scornful enemies, es 

That laugh, as if, transported with some fit 
Of passion, I to them had quitted all. 
At random jrielded up to their misrule ; 
And know not that I call'd and drew them thither 
My hell-hounds, to lick up the draff and filth, eso 
Which man's polluting sin with taint hath shed 
On what was pure ! till cramm'd and gorg'd, nigh 

With suck'd and glutted offal, at one sling 
Of thy victorious arm, well-pleasing Son, 634 

fioth Sin, and Death, and yawning Grave, at last 
Through Chaos huri'd, obstruct the mouth of hell 
For ever, and seal up his ravenous jaws. 
Then heaven and earth renew'd shall be made pure 

n« dogs] See Ap. Rhod. Arg. It. 166& 

dilye di xrj^ag 
Ovftofi6(fOvg, Atdtto do^ xi^pag, dt n6Ql navaw 
*HiQa diyeiovfrak inl l^fowny dyoytat. Todd. 

* Stygioflque canee.* Luc Phars. vL 733. A, Dyee. 
«& hath^ud] FentoDVMds after Tiekell,' had shed.' 

Digitized by VjOOQIC 

BOOK X. ^ 363 

To sanctity that shall receive no stain : 

Till then the curse pronounc'd on both precedes. 640 

He ended, and the heay'nly audience loud 
Sung Hallelujah, as the sound of seas, 
Through multitude that sung : Just are Thy ways, 
Righteous are Thy decrees on all Thy works ; 
Who can extenuate Thee ? Next, to the Son, 646 
Destin'd restorer of mankind, by whom 
New heaven and earth shall to the ages rise, 
Or down from heaven descend. Such was their song, 
While the Creator calling forth by name 
His mighty angels gave them several charge, 66o 
As sorted best with present things. The sun 
Had first his precept so to move, so shine. 
As might affect the earth with cold and heat 
Scarce tolerable, and from the north to call 
Decrepit winter, from th^ south to bring e56 

Sdstitial summer's heat. To the blanc moon 
Her office they prescrib'd, to th' other five 
Their planetary motions and aspects 
In Sextile, Square, and Trine, and Opposite, 
Of noxious efficacy, and when to join G0O 

0K Decrepit] This expression occurs in Beaumont and Fletcher's 
•Wife for a Month.' 

* Decrepit JfxnUr hang upon my shoulders.' JVeuion. 
<^ Heme mo€n\ Tvtg. Mvl viL 8. 'Candida' luna. Canzon. do 
Giustin. 1620, p. 12. 

* E bianca CvnOa in negro ciel paiea.' Todd. 
ffo ScaiXUI See Usle's Du Bartas, p. 156. 

* In tryangP in quadrangle, or in atxHU a^^lanoe.' 
and Wishart's Emanuel, p. 22, 52. 
VOL. I. 45 . 


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In synod unbenign ; and taught the fix'd 

Their influence malignant when to shower, 

Which of them rising with the sun, ^r falling, 

Should prove tempestuous. To the winds thej set 

Their comers, when with bluster to confound 665 

Sea, air, and shore ; the thunder when to roll 

With terror through the dark aereal hall. 

Some say, he l»d hb angels turn askance 

The poles of earth twice ten degrees and more 

From the sun's axle ; they with labour push'd 670 

Oblique the centric globe : some say, the sun 

Was bid turn reins from th' equinoctial road 

Like distant breadth to Taurus with the seven 

Atlantic Sisters, and the Spartan Twins, 

Up to the Tropic Crab ; thence down amain e75 

By Leo, and the Virgin, and the Scales, 

As deep as Capricorn, to bring in change 

Of seasons to each clime ; else had the spring 

Perpetual smil'd'cm earth with vernant flowers, 

Equal in days and nights, except to those ' &» 

Beyond the polar circles ; to them day 

Had unbenighted shone, while the low sun 

To recompense his distance in their sight 

Had rounded still th' horizon, and not known 

Or east or west, which had forbid the snow 685 

From cold Estotiland, and south as far 

Beneath Magellan. At that tasted fruit 

V to] Bentley reads < through Tanma f an alteratioii which Pope 
and Newton have approved. 


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BOOK X. 355 

The sun, as from Thyestean banquet, tum'd 
His course intended ; else how had the world 
Inhabited, though sinless, more than now e90 

Avoided pinching cold and scorching heat ? 
These changes in the heavens, though slow, produced 
Like change on sea and land, sideral blast, 
Vapour, and mist, and exhalation hot. 
Corrupt and pestilent Now from the north 695 
Of Norumbega and the Samoed shore. 
Bursting their brazen dungeon, arm'd with ice, 
And snow, and hail, and stormy gust, and flaw, 
Boreas, and Caecias, and Argestes loud. 
And Thrascias rend the woods, and seas upturn ; too 
With adverse blast upturns them from the south 
Notus, and Afer black with thund'rous clouds 
From Serraliona ; thwart of these as fierce 
Forth rush the Levant and the Ponent vdnds, 
Eurus and Zephyr with their lateral noise, Ttxs 

Sirocco and Libecchio. Thus began 
Outrage from lifeless things ; but Discord first, 
Daughter of Sin, among th' irrational 
Death introduced through fierce antipathy : 709 

Beast now with beast gan war, and fowl with fowl, 
And fish with fish; to graze the herb all leaving. 
Devoured each other ; nor stood much in awe 

007 arm^d] Claud, de Rap. Pros. L 69. 

< Cen tiubine maco 
Cam gravk armahar Bonos, glacieque nivalL' Riekardton. 
ne gust] Sfaakesp. Venus and Adonis. 

c Like a red mom that ever yet betokened 
GtM<, and fbvlflawi to herdsmen, and to herds.' Mwton. 


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Of man, but fled him, or with count'nance grim 

Glar'd on him passing. These were from without 

The growing miseries, which Adam saw '7i5 

ALready in part, though hid in gloomiest shade, 

To sorrow abandon'd, but worse felt within. 

And, in a troubled sea of passion tost. 

Thus to disburden sought with sad complaint. 

O miserable of happy ! is this the end 720 

Of this new glorious world, and me so late 

The glory of that glory, who now become 

Accurs'd of blessed ? Hide me from the face 

Of God, whom to behold was then my highth 

Of happiness : yet well, if here would end 7S5 

The misery; I deserv'd it, and would bear 

My own deservings ; but this will not serve ; 

All that I eat, or drink, or shall beget, 

Is propagated curse. O voice once heard 

Delightfully, *Encrease and multiply,' 730 

Now death to hear ! for what can I encrease 

Or multiply, but curses on my head ? 

Who of all ages to succeed, but feeling 

The evil on him brought by me, will curse 

My head ? Ill fare our ancestor impure, 735 

For this we may thank Adam ; but his thanks 

Shall be the execration ; so besides - 

Mine own that bide upon me, all from me 

Shall with a fierce reflux on me redound. 

On me, as on their natural centre, light 740 

Heavy, though in their place. O fleeting joys 

Of paradise, dear bought with lasting woes ! 


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BOOK X. 357 

Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay, 

To mould me man ? Did 1 solicit thee 

From darkness to promote me, or here place 746 

In this delicious garden? As my will 

Concurr'd not to my being, it were but right 

And equal to reduce me to my dust, 

Desirous to resign, and render back 

All I receiv'd, unable to perform 750 

Thy terms too hard, by which I was to hold 

The good I sought not. To the loss of that. 

Sufficient penalty, why hast thou added 

The sense of endless woes ? Inexplicable 

Thy justice seems ; yet, to say truth, too late 755 

I thus contest: then should have been refus'd 

Those terms, whatever, when they were proposed. 

Thou didst accept them ; wilt thou enjoy the good, 

Then cavil the conditions ? and though G#d 

Made thee without thy leave, what if thy son 7eo 

Prove disobedient, and reprov'd retort. 

Wherefore didst thou beget me ? I sought it not : 

Wouldst thou admit for his contempt of thee 

That proud excuse ? yet him not thy election. 

But natural necessity begot. 765 

God made thee of choice his own, and of his own 

To serve him; thy reward was of his grace; 

Thy punishment then justly is at his will. 

Be it so, for I submit his doom is fair. 

That dust I am, and shall to dust return : 77o 

TW God made thee ofchmce] * Thee God made freely.' BenU. MS. 


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O welcome hour whenever ! why delays 

His hand to execute what his decree 

Fix'd on this day ? why do I overlive ? 

Why am I mockM with death, and lengthen'd out 

To deathless pain ? how gladly would I meet 775 

Mortality my sentence, and be earth 

Insensible ! how glad would lay me down 

As in my mother's lap ! there I should rest 

And sleep secure ; his dreadful voice no more 

Would thunder in my ears ; no fear of worse tso 

To me and to my offspring would torment me 

With cruel expectation. Yet one doubt 

Pursues me still, lest all I cannot die; 

Lest that pure breath of life, the spirit of man 

Which God inspired, cannot together perish 786 

With this corporeal clod ; then in the grave, 

Or in soAe other dismal place, who knows 

But I shall die a living death ? O thought 

^^ meefj So m the Adamns Exsul of Grotius, p. 60. 

* TeUofl, concavoe aperi sinus ! 

Cur non dehiscis ? aut in Acheruntis pla|;am 
Te, nosque mer^ ? Gemina compages soli 
Pateat revulsa ! Quaque stamns noxii, 
Opaca tellus corpora absorbat duo !' 
'W mtdha^s lap] * In ipso gremio teme matris.' Apulei Apologr. 
vol. L p. 540, ed. Delph. See Liv. Hist i. 56. Ovid. Past iL 713| 
Metam. iiL 1S5, 

* Sanguineam trepido plangebant pectore matrem.' 
783 aU] iEsch. Prom. Vinct 1061. 

n&vwtg Ifii f oi dayarfhasi. 
and Hor. Od. iii. xxx. 6. < Non omnia moriar.' 

Aeuieon. Todd. 


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BOOK X. 359 

Horrid, if true ! yet why ? it was but breath 

Of life that sinn'd ; what dies but what had life 790 

And sin ? the body properly hath neither. 

All of me then shall die ; let this appease 

The doubt, since human reach no further knows. 

For though the Lord of all be infinite, 

Is his wrath also ? be it, man is not so, 795 

But mortal doom'd. How can he exercise 

Wrath without end on man whom death must end ? 

Can he make deathless death? that were to make 

Strange contradiction, which to God himself 

Impossible is held, as argument 800 

Of weakness, not of power. Will he draw out. 

For anger's sake, finite to infinite 

In punish'd man, to satisfy his rigour 

Satisfy'd never ? that were to extend 

His sentence beyond dust and nature's lai#, 8O6 

By which all causes else according still 

To the reception of their matter act. 

Not to th' extent of their own sphere. But say, 

That death be not one stroke, as I suppos'd, 

Bereaving sense, but endless misery 810 

From this day onward, which I feel begun 

Both in me, and without me, and so last 

To perpetuity. Ay me ! that fear 

Comes thund'ring back with dreadfiil revolution 

On my defenceless head ; both death and I 8i5 

Are found eternal, and incorporate both ; 

W6 jjre] This is Bentley's conjectore, now received into the text; 
all the editions previously read * Am.' 


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Nor I on my part single, in me ail 

Posterity stands curs'd. Fair patrimony 

That I must leave ye, sons ; O were I able 

To waste it all myself, and leave ye none ! 88o 

So disinherited, how would ye bless 

Me, now your curse ! Ah ! why should all mankmd 

For one man's fault thus guiltless be condemned. 

If guiltless ? But from me what can proceed, 

But all corrupt, both mind and will deprav'd, 825 

Not to do only, but to will the same 

With me ? how can they then acquitted stand 

In sight of God ? Him after all disputes 

Forc'd I absolve : all my evasions vain 

And reasonings, tho' through mazes, lead me still 890 

But to my own conviction : first and last 

On me, me only, as the source and spring 

Of all corruption, all the blame lights due ; 

So might the wrath ! Fond wish! couldst thou support 

That burden heavier than the earth to bear, 835 

Than all the world much heavier, though divided 

With that bad woman ? Thus what thou desir'st, 

And what thou fear'st, alike destroys all hope 

Of refuge, and concludes thee miserable 

Beyond all past example and future, 840 

To Satan only like both crime and doom. 

O Conscience, into what abyss of fears 

MO fiOure] V. Fairfax's Tasso, cxviL 8a 

< But not bj art, or ekill, of things futi!ure 
Can the plaine troath revealed be, and told.* Ahslofi. 

Digitized by VjOOQIC 

BOOK X. 861 

And horrors hast thou driv'n me, out of which 
I find no way, from deep to deeper plung'd ! 

Thus Adam to himself lamented loud 845 

Through the still night, not now, as ere man fell, 
Wholesome, and cool, and mild, but with black air 
Accompanj'd, with damps and dreadful gloom, 
Which to his evil conscience represented 
All things with double terror. On the ground 850 
Outstretch'd he lay, on the cold ground, and oft 
Curs'd his creation; death as oft accus'd 
Of tardy execution, since denounc'd 
The day of his offence. Why comes not death, 
Said he, with one thrice acceptable stroke 866 

To end me ? Shall truth fail to keep her word, 
Justice divine not hasten to be just P 
But death comes not at call, justice divine 
Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries. 
O woods, O fountains, hillocks, dales, and bowers, 860 
With other echo late I taught your shades 
To answer, and resound faur other song. 
Whom thus alBQicted when sad Eve beheld. 
Desolate where she sat, approaching nigh. 

tti pM j^owufl T. Sp. F. QaeeiL ilL ir. 53. 
' The coM eorDk was his couch.' 
and vi. iy. 40. 

* On the tM gnniind maugre himself he threw.' Todd. 
tf4 (ieaft] So SophocL Philoctetes. 79a 

*/2 dawajBy OdrajB, Tt&g iel xaXdvftevog 
Oikw ndiT ^/ua^, 01) 9^p^ iuAbXp luni, ^ewUnu 
m> kSlocU] Fenton proposes toread <hills, rocks.' 
m shades] 'CaTes.' BenU. M& vr. 257. 
TOL. I. 46 


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Soft words to his fierce passion she assay'd : 8@ 

But her with stern regard he thus repeli'd. 

Out of my sight, thou serpent! that name best 
Befits thee with him leagu'd, thyself as false 
And hatefiil ; nothing wants, but that thy shape, 
Like his, and colour serpentine may show 87d 

Thy inward fraud, to warn all creatures from thee 
Henceforth ; lest that too heavenly form, pretended 
To hellish falsehood, snare them. But for thee 
I had persisted happy, had not thy pride 
And wand'ring vanity, when least was safe, 875 

Rejected my forewarning, and disdain'd 
Not to be trusted, longing to be seen 
Though by the devil himself, him overweening 
To over-reach ; but with the serpent meeting, 
Fool'd and beguil'd, by him thou, I by thee, 880 

To trust thee firom my side, imagined wise, 
Constant, mature, proof against all assaults, 
And understood not all was but a show 
Rather than solid virtue, all but a rib 
Crooked by nature, bent, as now appears, 885 

More to the part sinister from me drawn. 
Well if thrown out, as supernumerary 
To my just number found. Oh ! why did God, 
Creator vnse, that peopled highest heaven 

8^ pretended] As in the Latin tongue, signifiee < placed before. 
Virg. Georg. L 370. ' Segeti praiendere sepem.' and ^n. vL 60. 

SK God] Compere Euripidis Hippolytus, v. 616; and Medea, t. 
573; and Arioeto Ori. Fur. c. xxviL et IdO. Mvton. 


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With spirits masculine, create at last 890 

This noveltj on earth, this fair defect 

Of nature, and not fill the world at once 

With men as angels without feminine, 

Or find some other way to generate 

Mankind ? This mischief had not then befalPn, 895 

And more that shall befall, innumerable 

Disturbances on earth through female snares. 

And straight conjunction with this sex : for either 

He never shall find out fit mate, but such 

As some misfortune brings him, or mistake, 900 

Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain 

Through her perverseness ; but shall see her gain'd 

By a far worse; or if she love, withheld 

By parents, or his happiest choice too late 

Shall meet, already link'd and wedlock-bound 905 

To a fell adversary, his hate or shame ; 

Which infinite calamity shall cause 

To human life, and household peace confound. 

He added not, and from her tum'd ; but Eve 
Not so repuls'd, with tears that ceas'd not flowing, 
And tresses all disordered, at his feet 9ii 

Fell humble, and, embracing them, besought 
His peace, and thus proceeded in her plaint. 

Forsake me not thus, Adam! witness heaven 

914 Fortdkt me tio<] So in the Adamus ExbuI of Grotius, p. 64, 
Eve says, 

* Per sancta thalami sacra, per jus nominia 
Quodcunqae nostri, sire me natam vocas, 
Ez te creatam, sive commuBi Patre 


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What love nncere and reyerence in m j heart 915 

I bear thee, and unweeting have offended) 

Unhappily deceiv'd ; thj suppliant 

I beg, and clasp thy knees ; bereave me not 

Whereon I live, thy gentle looks, thy aid, 

Thy counsel in this uttermost distress, 990 

My only strength and stay : forlorn of thee, 

Whither shall I betake me, where subsist ? 

While yet we live, scarce one short hour perhaps, 

Between us two let there be peace, both joining, 

As join'd in injuries, one enmity 9% 

Against a foe by doom express assign'd us, 

That cruel serpent. On me exercise not 

Thy hatred for this misery befallen, 

On me already lost, me than thy self 

More miserable ; both have sinn'd, but thou dao 

Against God only, I against God and thee; 

And to the place of judgment will return, 

Ortam, sororem, sive potins conjngem, 
Ne me relinquas. Nunc tuo auzilio est opus, 
Com Tona son est Unicum lapse mihi 
Finnainen ; unam spem giavi adiUctn malo.' 
"/ortom] Or. Met 1358. 

< Quid tibi, si sine me fatis erepta Aiisees, 
Nunc animi, mueranda, foret? quo sola timorem 
Fern modo poeeea ? quo conadante dolerea? 
Namque ego, crede mihi, si te modo pontua habeiet 
Te aequerer, conjux.' 
3B5 .one mfwUy] Bentley reads < in enmity,* which reading Newton 
thinka not improbable. 
<^ lagmnH] So Grotii Adamus Exsul. p. 65. 

* Ego duplex feci nefas. 

Cum faUor et cum fUlo.' 


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BOOK X. 365 

There with my cries importune heaven, that all 
The sentence, firom thy head removed, may light 
On me, sole cause to thee of all this woe ; 935 

Me, me only just object of his ire. 

She ended weeping, and her lowly plight, 
Immoveable till peace obtain'd from fault 
Acknowledged and deplor'd, in Adam wrought 
Commiseration ; soon his heart relented 940 

Towards her, his life so late and sole delight, 
Now at his feet submissive in distress. 
Creature so fair his reconcilement seeking. 
His counsel, whom she had displeas'd, his aid ; 
As one disarm'd, his anger all he lost, 945 

And thus with peaceful words upraisM her soon. 

Unwary*and too desirous as before, 
So now of what thou know'st not, who desir'st 
The punishment all on thy self; alas. 
Bear thine own first, ill able to sustain 95o 

His full wrath, whose thou feePst as yet least part. 
And my displeasure bear'st so ill. If prayers 
Could alter high decrees, I to that place 
Would speed before thee, and be louder heard. 
That on my head all might be visited; 955 

Thy frailty and infirmer sex forgiv'n, 
To me committed, and by me expos'd. 
But rise, let us no more contend, nor blame 
Each other, blam'd enough elsewhere, but strive 
In offices of love how we may lighten 96o 

Each other's burden in our share of woe ; 
Since this day's death denounc'd, if aught I see. 


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Will prove no sudden, but a slow-pac'd evil, 

A long day's dying to augment our pam, 

And to our seed, (O hapless seed !) deriv'd. 96 

To whom thus Eve, recovering heart, reply'd. 
Adam, by sad experiment I know 
How little weight my words with thee can find, 
Found so erroneous; thence by just event 
Found so unfortunate ; nevertheless, 970 

Restored by thee, vile as I am, to place 
Of new acceptance, hopeful to regain 
Thy love, the sole contentment of my heart 
Living or dying, from thee I will not hide 
What thoughts m my unquiet breast are risen, 975 
Tending to some relief of our extremes. 
Or end, though sharp and sad, yet toleralble, 
As in our evils, and of easier choice. 
If care of our descent perplex us most. 
Which must be born to certain woe, devour 'd 960 
By Death at last, (and miserable it is 
To be to others cause of misery. 
Our own begotten, and of our loins to bring 
Into this cursed world a woful race, 
That after wretched life must be at last 966 

Food for so foul a monster,) in thy power 
It lies, yet ere conception to prevent 

Ki U %a] Todd remarks, that a parenthesis commences at the 
words * and miserable it is,' and comes down to < so foul a monster/ 
ver. 986. 

^^ conception] * Why not conception already, since he has men- 
tioned copulation twice ?* BenU, MS. 


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BOOK X. 367 

The race unblest, to being yet unbegot. 
Childless thou art, childless remain : so Death 
Shall be deceived his glut, and with us two 990 

Be forc'd to satisfy his rav'nous maw. 
But if thou judge it hard and difficult, 
Conversing, looking, loving, to abstain 
From love's due rites, nuptial embraces sweet. 
And with desire to languish without hope, 905 

Before the present object languishing 
With like desire, which would be misery. 
And torment less than none of what we dread. 
Then both ourselves and seed at once to free 
From what we fear for both, let us make short, looo 
Let us seek Death, or, he not found, supply 
With our own hands his office on ourselves : 
Why stand we longer shivering under fears. 
That show no end but death, and have the power, 
Of many ways to die the shortest choosing, loos 

Destruction with destruction to destroy ? 

^ In Milton's own editions, and in others, this and the following 
line are thus printed 

Childless thou art, childless remain, 
So death shall be deceived his glut, and with us two, &c. 
This error went through both Milton's editions ; and it was one 
that, when the poem was read to him, his ear alone could not detect; 
but the continuance of it docs not speak much in favour of the 
knowledge or attention of those who read to him, 
1001 tupply] So in the Adamus Exsul of Grotius, p. 61. 

* Quid mihi exsequias nego ? 

Quid pereo vivus ? quid meos manes moror ? 

Tu manus ! potius veni 

Ministra posne, que fuisti ciiminum.' 


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She ended here, or vehement despair 
Broke off the rest ; so much of death her thoughts 
Had entertam'd, as dy'd her cheeks with pale. 
But Adam, with such counsel nothing sway'd, loio 
To better hopes his more attentive mind 
Labouring had rais'd, and thus to Eve reply'd. 

Eve, thy contempt of life and pleasure seems 
To argue in thee something more sublime 
And excellent than what thy mind contemns ; lois 
But self-destruction therefore sought refutes 
That excellence thought in thee, and implies, 
Not thy contempt, but anguish and regret 
For loss of life and pleasure overlov'd. 
Or if thou covet death, as utmost end loao 

Of misery, so thinking to evade 
The penalty pronounc'd, doubt not but God 
Hath wiselier arm'd his vengeful ire than so 
To be forestalled : much more I fear lest death 
So snatch'd will not exempt us from the pain 1025 
We are by doom to pay : rather such acts 
Of contumacy will provoke the Highest 
To make death in us live : then let us seek 
Some safer resolution, which methinks 
I have in view, calling to mind with heed loao 

Part of our sentence, that thy seed shall bruise 
The serpent's head : piteous amends, unless 
Be meant, whom I conjecture, our grand foe 

low paU] Virg. Mil iv. 499. 

< HsBc efiata silet ; pallor simol occupat onu' Jortin, 
Compare Mn. iv. 644. Lucan, viL 190. Hume. 



BOOK X. 360 

Satan, who in the serpent hath contriy'd 
Agaust us this deceit To crash his head 1035 

WouLd be revenge indeed ; which will be lost 
By death brought on our selves, or childless days 
ResolvM, as thou proposest ; so our foe 
Shall scape his punishment ordainM, and we 
Instead shall double ours upon our heads. io40 

No more be mentioned then of violence 
Against our selves, and wilful barrenness, 
That cuts us off from hope, and savours only 
Rancour and pride, impatience and despite, 
Reluctance against God and his just yoke 1045 

Laid on our necks. Remember with what mild 
And gracious temper he both heard and judg'd 
Without wrath or reviling ; we expected 
Immediate dissolution, which we thought 
Was meant by death that day, when, lo! to thee 
Pains only in child-bearing were foretold, 106I 

And bringing forth; soon recompensed with joy, 
Fruit of thy womb : on me the curse aslope 
Glanc'd on the ground; with labour I must earn 
My bread ; what harm ? idleness had been worse ; 
My labour will sustain me ; and lest cold lOM 

Or heat should injure us, his timely care 
Hath unbesought provided, and his hands 
Cloth'd us unworthy, pitying while he judgM. 
How much more, if we pray him, will his ear leeo 
Be open, and his heart to pity incline. 
And teach us further by what means to shun 
Th' inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow, 
TOL. 1. 47 • • 


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Which now the sky with various face begins 
To show us in this mountain ; while the winds i<Mi 
Blow moist and keen, shattering the graceful locks 
Of these fair spreading trees, which bids us seek 
Some better shroud, some better warmth to cherish 
Our limbs benumb'd, ere this diurnal star 
Leave cold the night, how we his gathered beams 
Reflected may with matter sere foment; ion 

Or by collision of two bodies grind 
The air attrite to fire, as late the clouds 
Justling or push'd with winds rude in their shock 
Tme the slant lightning, whose thwart flame driv'n 
down 1075 

Kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine. 
And sends a comfortable heat from far. 
Which might supply the sun. Such fire to use, 
And what may else be remedy or cure 
To evils which our own misdeeds have wrought , 
He will instruct us praying, and of grace loei 

Beseeching him, so as we need not fear 
To pass commodiously this life, sustained 
By him with many comforts, till we end 
In dust, our final rest and native home. loes 

What better can we do, than, to the place 
Repairing where he judgM us, prostrate fall 

10^ fomerd] Virg. JEn. 1 175. 

< Suscepitque ignem foliis, atque arida ciicum 
Nutrimenta dedit, rapuitque in fomiie flammam.' Hume. 
1073 jh-e] « Be tired with holy fire.' Quarles's Emblems p. 29a 
107B orpine] Fenton and Bentley read *andpmeJ* 


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BOOK X. 371 

Before him reverent, and there confess 
Humbly om* faults, and pardon beg, with tears 
Watering the ground, and with our sighs the air 1090 
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign 
Of sorrow unfeign'd and humiliation meek ? 
Undoubtedly he will relent and turn 
From his displeasure ; in whose look serene. 
When angry most he seem'd and most severe, 1095 
What else but favour, grace, and mercy shone ? 

So spake our father penitent, nor Eve 
Felt less remorse : they forthwith to the place 
Repairing where he judg'd them prostrate fell 
Before hhn reverent; and both confess'd iioo 

Humbly their faults, and pardon begg'd, with tears 
Watering the ground, and with their sighs the air 
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign 
Of sorrow unfeign'd and humiliation meeL 

1091 DrequenHng] Tempesting. BentL MSi; so in line 1103. 



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